


A Relationship Thing

by TheFangirlTypeofCrazy



Series: A Relationship Thing [1]
Category: Deadpool (Comics), Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man/Deadpool - Joe Kelly (Comics)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blow Jobs, Bottom Peter Parker, Bottom Peter Parker/Top Wade Wilson, Bottom Wade Wilson, Canon Compliant, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Sexual Content, Fights, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Getting Together, Gwen Stacy is Dead, Hallucinations, Insecure Wade Wilson, M/M, Manipulation, Marvel Universe, Mentioned Gwen Stacy, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Not Spider-Man: Homecoming Compliant, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, POV Peter Parker, POV Third Person, POV Third Person Plural, POV Wade Wilson, Peter Parker Angst, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Mess, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson in Love, Poisoning, Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sex, Sexual Content, Shameless Smut, Smut, Spider-Man/Deadpool (2016) #4, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Top Peter Parker, Top Peter Parker/Bottom Wade Wilson, Top Wade Wilson, Train Sex, Trains
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-03-29 13:44:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19021135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFangirlTypeofCrazy/pseuds/TheFangirlTypeofCrazy
Summary: Peter was so dead. In his defense, it had been over 72 hours since he last slept and he had needed someone to be with, to hold him, so desperately and Wade was just... there.Or Wade's apology tacos work a little too well.





	1. Apology Tacos

Deadpool was not the most tactful of superheroes. Or the most intelligent. Or the most disciplined. Realistically, Wade was surprised S.H.I.E.L.D hadn’t locked him in a holding cell in the middle of an island by now. However, against all odds, he was a superhero (technically), despite having “let himself in” to Mr. Peter Parker’s apartment in the middle of the night.

In his defense, he had come to apologize for killing Peter that one time, – okay, two times – armed with a brown paper grocery bag full of tacos from the food truck that often parked near Wade’s apartment. Their food was better than Taco Bell, albeit more expensive. But they had the best chimichangas Wade had ever had and Wade supposed that apologizing for unaliving someone – yes, twice – required extra generosity. Of course, Mr. Parker wasn’t exactly thrilled to see his murderer appeared in his living room at 2 o’clock in the morning.

Or maybe he just didn’t like Deadpool, because although Peter had bags under his eyes and exhaustion pulling at the slump in his shoulders, he was fully dressed in a black tank top and cargo shorts, with grease splattered across his cheeks. He sat at his dining room table, where tools were strewn haphazardly and the light of his work lamp lit up his brown hair in a halo. He didn’t react at all when he saw Deadpool walk in. Wade wondered how long it had been since he last slept.

Wade peered around the bag in his arms. “Hey, Petey. I brought you some apology tacos. For last time.”

The bags under Peter’s eyes seemed to darken as he took in the bag. He frowned, his eyebrows drawn together. “Last time…? What happened— Oh!” Realization lit up his eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. “You mean when you murdered me and left a birthday card instead of apologizing in person?”

Wade laughed. “You make it sound so bad when you say it like that.” Peter raised an eyebrow. “But I guess how can I ever compete with your perfect little spider person?” He dropped the bag on the only clear corner of the table. “You look hungry.”

Peter stood and eyed the contents of the bag. “These aren’t poisoned?” he asked, inhaling deeply. As if on cue, his stomach growled.

Wade chuckled. “Not unless you count the hot sauce, which might actually be capable of killing a person. Or giving them explosive diarrhea.”

Peter smiled and look up at him with a kind of startling warmth in his brown eyes. “Thank you, then. I really appreciate this.” Wade waved off the gratitude and turned toward the open window he had entered through. Now he could return home with his soul fulfilled. “Wait.” Wade stopped and glanced back at Peter, who was floundering for words with round, hopeful eyes. “Do you… er… want to stay? We could split the tacos.”

“I really wish I could, Petey, but I have to take my banana to the dry cleaner’s.” Peter huffed in amusement. “I know I’m not your favorite superhero, or your tenth favorite, and I only stopped by to apologize.” Plus, Peter seemed busy working on whatever new tech he was trying to design for Parker Industries. Even Wade had to admit that Peter was a talented little nerd. No wonder Spidey idolized him so much.

Wade felt a twinge of envy in his chest.

Peter rolled his eyes and huffed, a gesture that reminded Wade of the arachnid in question. “Shut up.” Peter shook his head, exasperated. “It’s really okay if you stay. I wouldn’t invite you if I wasn’t okay with it.”

Wade hesitated for a moment, but any arguments the mass of chaos he called a brain could come up with sounded weak. And the thought of returning to his own dark, empty apartment with the cold stone walls and heavy silence made him want to bury himself in Peter’s couch and refuse to leave.

Not that he would ever admit that to anyone.

Instead, Wade rationalized that if Peter was so trusting as to allow a known mercenary and murderer into his apartment, then Wade would take full advantage. Not in a violent or creepy way, of course. But he could maybe learn a thing or two about Spider-Man that he didn’t already know.

“The apartment is a lot smaller than I thought it would be,” Wade said as he followed Peter into the kitchen. Peter dug through the cabinets, searching for dishes to eat on. “It’s more impressive than anything I could afford, I just thought it would be more… Tony Stark-ish. Extravagant. Full of self-indulgent glory and trophies and things.” But Peter’s apartment was surprisingly bare, kept clean and polished, but with few unnecessary decorations other than some paintings that looked like they had been done by children. The work lamp on the dining table and a single candle set in the center of the island lit up the room in a dim glow. Rather than extravagant, it felt warm and cozy.

“Yeah. Tony actually suggested that I get a bigger place, but I don’t live with anyone and I already feel so alone sometimes. I think I would get lost in a mansion.” Peter began clearing the tools and wires and miscellaneous pieces of metal from the table and, with Wade’s help, carried them into a spare bedroom that had been transformed into a workshop.

“You’ve been here before, though,” Peter reminded him as they walked back to the kitchen. “Why are you so surprised?”

“I was more focused on trying to drag your soul into the pits of Hell, and then dying so I could save you from Mysterio. I wasn’t really worried about the décor.”

“And you are now?”

“I’ll have you know that I’m a great interior designer. In fact, I should have you know that you have way too many muted colors. You need something that pops.”

“Like what?”

“Like peach or light blue.”

“Pastels?”

“I mcfuckin’ _love_ pastels. They really look nice when they’re splattered with blood.”

They dumped the bag of tacos onto the table and Wade watched with amusement as Peter breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of still-warm meat and salsa and guac. Wade had even gotten a small bag of tortilla chips and queso, which was exactly the right amount of spicy.

After eating about ten tacos and half the bag of chips – _how did Peter even eat that much?_ – Peter looked up at Wade and frowned. Wade gave him a bemused smile that was impossible to see beneath his mask.

“What is it? Is the meat not the right kind of beef? Too much cat food?”

“What? No. What are you even talking about?” Peter’s face paled. “Was there _cat food_ in that?”

Wade cackled and slapped Peter on the back. Peter coughed. “Any food is cat food if you’re brave enough.”

Peter scowled at him, apparently deciding to ignore his weird comments. “I didn’t invite you inside my apartment just so you could watch me, Wade. You should eat.”

“But I only want a taste of your delicious ass.”

Peter flushed, but only grew more determined. “Seriously. I already know about your skin, and it doesn’t bother me. I don’t want to force you into anything you don’t want to do, but you don’t have to wear the mask around me.”

Wade smirked. “I know you just want to be able to see my soft, gorgeous lips and dreamy eyes, but I’m sure you can use the tacos more than I can. I’m more of a chimichanga person, anyway.”

Peter looked disappointed, but he didn’t press the issue. Instead, he asked Wade about his newest targets, how much money he got paid, who he usually did work for. Wade knew he was just being friendly, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was being compared to Spider-Man, who did his work out of the goodness of his heart, who did what he thought was right rather than following the orders of others, who had never killed anyone in his entire life. Wade’s tongue was lead in his mouth.

Full and satisfied, Peter stood and cleaned up the table. He kept glancing at Wade out of the corner of his eye, almost like he felt guilty for keeping him there, which was simultaneously odd and soul-shattering and for the first time in a long time, Wade didn’t feel like an unwanted guest.

“Like what you see?” Wade asked after Peter stopped to stare at him while he rinsed off his plate.

Peter’s face turned bright pink and Wade’s cocky smile widened. That was interesting.

“No. I guess I’m worried that you don’t even want to be here and you’re helping me clean up and you didn’t even eat. I feel like I’m being a bad host.”

Wade laughed. “I would hardly call you a host.” Wade’s eyes traced over Peter’s face, noting the red that still dusted his cheeks and the way he curled his fingers awkwardly in the hem of his shirt. Wade walked toward him and placed a hand on the counter next to where Peter stood, blinking at him with wide eyes. “You get flustered so easily for a heartless CEO.”

“I don’t usually, I’m just—”

Peter froze, his eyes widening as Wade leaned forward and rubbed his thumb over the corner of Peter’s lip. “Sorry,” Wade slurred, giving Peter a shit-eating grin. “You had hot sauce on your face.” Wade pulled his mask off and slipped his thumb into his mouth, making a show of suckling on it.

Wade’s smile faltered at the sight of Peter gazing hazily up at him through his thick eyelashes, and all the amusement drained out of Wade’s body. This wasn’t a joke to Peter. Wade’s cheeks heated and his suit suddenly seemed way too hot. Shit. Wade could smell the tacos on Peter’s breath and see the golden flecks in his brown eyes and suddenly he couldn’t breathe or move or pull away because, despite having noticed it in passing before, it was never clearer to Wade how absolutely _gorgeous_ Peter was.

No wonder Spider-Man loved him so much.

Peter’s flustered expression quickly turned into a devious smile, offset by the red that still painted his skin. He leaned forward, his brown eyes trailing over Wade’s rotting face. Peter reached out to rub his thumb across Wade’s lower lip. Wade shuddered. “You have sauce on your lips.”

Wade grinned. “Really?”

“No.”

And then they were kissing. Wade wasn’t sure who leaned forward first; the only thought in his mind was that it was impossible that he ever hated Peter when he kissed like this. Everything about Peter was a stark contrast to Wade. From his soft lips to his small frame to the way he clung to Wade like he was the last person Peter would ever kiss.

Peter’s fingers danced down Wade’s neck, igniting every nerve in Wade’s body and making the voices in his head scream for more. One tiny voice in the back of his mind whispered _What about Spider-Man?_ But the thought vanished the instant Peter slipped his tongue into Wade’s mouth.

When Peter finally pulled away, it was with glassy eyes and a haughty smirk. Wade shivered, a smile forming on his lips.

“You have a death wish, don’t you?” Wade breathed.

Peter grinned and leaned forward, searching for another kiss.

“Peter,” Wade said softly, and the solemnity of his voice made Peter pull back. Guilt flooded his face immediately. “You don’t want me. I… I _killed_ you.”

Peter shrugged. “I prefer unalived.” When Wade didn’t laugh, Peter continued more seriously. “This could just be a one-time thing, then. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

Wade smiled weakly. He was used to this kind of stuff. He was used to people wanting him, but there was always an undercurrent of fear. Even when he was as young and attractive as Peter, he was still a mercenary. Peter, however, didn’t seem to be afraid of him, even after Wade shot him in the head twice. It was a level of trust that made Wade suspect Peter was either really good at keeping secrets or that he was incredibly naïve and foolish.

 _He should be afraid of us_.

**Shut the fuck up. Peter’s still talking.**

Wade’s attention snapped back to Peter, who was, in fact, still speaking to him. “—it’s okay if you don’t want to.” His fingers were stroking across the hard leather of Deadpool’s suit, and Wade’s pulse spiked again. “Just… I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

**What the hell? Why not have a fling?**

_It’s not like Spider-Man is ever going to love you back. Might as well move on._

Peter was still rambling on, his freckles twinkling like stars on his cheeks as his face grew increasingly red. Wade smiled. Warmth spilled in his stomach.

Wade decided to save Peter from himself and reached out to pull him into a deep kiss. Peter froze, wide-eyed for an instant before he melted, his hands coming up to frame Wade’s face. Wade shivered and pushed Peter up against the kitchen counter. Peter gasped as their hips slotted together.

“Wade,” Peter gasped. He groaned, his nails digging into Wade’s suit so hard Wade could feel it. Spikes of pleasure shot through his shoulders.

Wade’s teeth caught on Peter’s lips and pulled. Those soft, gorgeous lips that Wade had been unable to ignore the few times they had met before this. The taste of iron spilled into Wade’s mouth. Peter’s hips rolled into Wade’s, causing them both to gasp. Wade made a choking sound in the back of his throat and pulled away from Peter’s lips to sigh a quiet “Oh.”

Wade’s hands tightened around Peter’s hips, pinning him against the counter so Wade could focus on eliciting soft whimpers out of Peter’s mouth. But Peter was stronger than Wade expected him to be, and it didn’t take much for Peter to be grinding on him again. Peter’s arms wrapped beneath Wade’s shoulders, pulling them flush against one another. The contact was intoxicating. It was too much and not enough at the same time, and Wade’s brain didn’t seem to know if it should panic or _never stop_.

“If you don’t stop,” Wade managed to gasp, his fingers splayed across the sides of Peter’s jeans, “I won’t be able to take your pants off.”

Trembling, Peter pulled himself away enough that Wade could unbutton his pants and cup Peter’s length was a shaky hand. Peter jolted and let out a high-pitched squeak at the touch that made Wade’s head spin. Peter’s pants and whimpers made Wade’s cock stand at attention, aching for attention.

Wade fell to his knees before Peter, staring up at him with Wade’s hands around Peter’s hips and feeling like a mortal praying to his god. Peter reached out and placed his hands lightly on Wade’s bald head and Wade stiffened. His skin was gross and scabby and most people probably didn’t want to be anywhere near it. Instead, Peter stroked his fingers over Wade’s scarred head, fingering Wade’s flesh like it was made of diamonds and glass instead of burns and scars.

Wade swallowed thickly and pulled Peter’s jeans down his legs. A dark stain was painted across Peter’s underwear and Wade mouthed at the shape of Peter’s cock. Peter shuddered, his hands planting firmly on Wade’s head. Wade smiled and pulled back just enough to pull Peter’s underwear down, freeing Peter’s cock that glinted pink and wet before him, slick with the precum that was beading at the head. Wade’s own cock twitched in interest at the sight of it.

Wade reached out and put his hand around the base of it, squeezing lightly. Peter gasped, his entire body shivering. Wade stroked it once and reveled when Peter released a breathy whine and thrust up into his hand. Wade tightened his fingers around Peter’s cock.

“Patience, baby boy. Patience yields focus and all that crap.”

“I think that’s from a different series.”

“No way.” Wade grinned and leaned forward, experimentally touching the tip of Peter’s cock with his tongue. It was hot and smooth and Wade wanted it in the back of his throat. He licked a stripe from the base to the head before swirling his tongue around the head, savoring the salty taste of Peter’s precum.

“Wade,” Peter gasped. God, the way he said Wade’s name sent shivers down his spine and made goosebumps appear on his skin.

Wade groaned and pushed Peter’s cock into the back of his throat. Peter arched as a strangled moan tore itself out of his throat.

“Wade,” Peter groaned, pushing Wade’s head down and forcing him to take more of his cock. Wade nearly choked as Peter thrust into his mouth, but he forced himself to relax, to open his throat and take Peter down to the hilt. Peter groaned and pressed his fingers against the back of Wade’s neck.

Wade pulled back, flicking his tongue over the slit and stroking his hand around the base of Peter’s cock before sliding back down again. He groaned against the fullness in his throat, the vibrations causing Peter to shudder and cry out, Wade’s name on his lips.

“God, you’re good,” Peter breathed. The tiny gasps and squeaks ripped themselves out of Peter’s throat. “Don’t stop.”

Wade smirked around the cock in his mouth. As if he was going to stop now that Peter was curled over him, his voice hoarse and his entire body trembling. Wade drew back, hollowing his cheeks, and then slid down again. He repeated this motion several times before Peter’s hands locked around Wade’s head and he thrust into the back of Wade’s throat, setting his own rhythm.

Wade swallowed around him, and Peter’s entire body jolted, a strangled shout on his lips.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “Ah, Wade. Do that again.” He entire body tensed as Wade swallowed again, his fingers leaving bruises around Peter’s thighs.

With another twist of Wade’s wrist and a deep swallow around Peter’s cock, Peter exploded onto Wade’s tongue. His toes curled prettily by Wade’s knees. Wade drank all Peter had to offer and pulled off with a pop.

He dared to look up at Peter, whose head was thrown back, panting, a beautiful red heat down his neck and chest. He looked ethereal, objectively beautiful even if Wade admitted it to himself only grudgingly.

“That was amazing,” Peter said breathlessly, a dazed smile on his lips. Wade staggered to his feet. Peter’s eyes glittered at him, and he reached out to cup Wade’s obvious erection through his suit. “Want me to—?”

Wade grabbed Peter by the wrist. “Nuh uh, Mr. Parker. I don’t feel like cleaning cum stains out of my suit today.”

Disappointment flashed across Peter’s face so quickly that Wade almost missed it. “Okay. Just let me clean up and then I’ll… get you something to eat?”

Wade grinned and patted his stomach. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to get out of there as quickly as he could before Peter realized his mistake and beat Wade to death with his work lamp. “I’m full from my milkshake already. Thank you, though. Maybe next time you can serve up some of that sweet ass.”

Peter’s lips wavered like they weren’t sure whether they wanted to smile or frown. “I’m going to change clothes,” he said, wagging a finger at Wade as he turned away. “Stay here.”

Wade watched Peter walk away, struggling and failing to keep his pants from slipping down to reveal his gorgeous ass. Wade wanted to sink his teeth into it. But he was also fighting the rising wave of panic in his chest that was telling him to get out of here. Now.

 **You’re a coward** , he told himself as pulled his mask back on and slipped out through the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet no one actually caught the Voltron reference here because it was only for half a second lol. Sorry about the abrupt ending (I'm honestly just really bad at ending things). And thank you for reading.


	2. It Was At This Moment Parker Knew... He'd Fucked Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I never realized how much work goes into fanfiction until I started trying to post something every week. Rewriting everything onto a second draft is sooo time consuming lmao. Anyway, here is Peter's POV, who is probably only slightly less impulsive that Wade, especially when he's sleep-deprived.

Peter was so so _so_ dead. He was already six feet beneath the ground, watching the world pass him in a putrid combination of disgust and disbelief.

In his defense, it had been over 72 hours since he had last slept, kept awake by nightmares and memories. Every time he closed his eyes, he could hear Gwen’s screams as she fell, he could feel Wade’s bullet tearing his brain apart, he could feel Venom taking control of his mind and body as he watched himself kill innocent people. He couldn’t sleep until he was so exhausted that his body gave out.

If he were a real spider, he wouldn’t need to sleep. He could just lower his metabolism and rest without being forced to relive his death over and over again. Instead, he had been drunk on sleep deprivation and ready to tremble apart. He had needed someone to be with him – to hold him – so desperately and then Wade was just _there._

Peter couldn’t say he wouldn't go back and change what had happened if he could, but he also couldn’t stop thinking about it. About Wade drawing his tongue across Peter’s lips, Wade taking Peter’s cock down his throat, Wade’s rough hands against Peter’s touch-starved skin. Thinking about it made his stomach tighten and his toes curl, and despite his insistence that it had been huge mistake, a small voice in the back of his mind told him that he would give anything to do it again.

The ice cream on his tongue and the wind sweeping across the rooftop did little to cool his flushed cheeks, and not even the adrenaline rush of webbing up some petty bank robbers hadn’t been enough to distract him from the memory of Wade’s swollen mouth around his cock. He was so consumed by his thoughts of Wade that when Deadpool materialized by his shoulder, Peter bit back a muffled scream.

“Hey, Baby Boy.” Wade pressed his fingers to Peter’s back, which only made his already-pounding heart race even faster. Heat poured into his cheeks and traveled down his neck. Peter’s fingers tightened around his ice cream cone until it crumbled. “Whoops,” Wade said as they watched the ice cream fall to the ground. “That’s too bad.”

“Yeah,” Peter rasped. He couldn’t meet Wade’s eyes for a solid two seconds before Wade pulled up his mask, scooped up the ice cream off the filthy concrete with his fingers and sucked them into his mouth, his eyes locked on Peter’s the entire time.

Peter gaped at him in disgust.

Wade smirked at him, his eyes bright with mischief. “What?”

Peter wrinkled his nose and shook his head in disbelief. “You’re a heathen.”

“What can I say? I like it nasty?”

Peter rolled his eyes and ignored the way his ears burned. “Yeah, okay.”

Wade chuckled and settled down beside him on the rooftop. Peter refused to watch as he scooped up more ice cream. “Whatcha been up to, Spidey? Being a hero? Saving the world?”

Peter huffed, but allowed the smile that was creeping up on his lips. “There hasn’t been a lot of that going on recently. I webbed up some bank robbers for the police to find and did some bodyguarding for Mr. Parker, but other than that, it’s been pretty quiet.”

Wade crossed his arms over his chest and leaned into Peter’s personal space, making Peter’s heart leap into his throat. Wade’s shoulder brushed his and Peter’s skin jolted and tinkled in response. Fuck.

“My day was pretty cool. I marathoned all three of the new Star Trek movies and then—”

Peter’s head snapped towards Wade. “You… you’re into _Star Trek_?”

“Correction: I’m into Chris Pine and William Shatner. Who do you think is hotter, by the way?” Wade let out a loud, wheezing laugh. “I still remember all the nip flashes in the original series. And people think Star Trek _wasn’t_ made for horny stay at home moms. Lol.”

“Did you seriously just say ‘lol’ out loud?”

Wade grinned brilliantly, his eyes crinkling at the edges. It was the smile Peter loved, bright and genuine, like Wade would never be happier than he was now.

“Anyway,” Peter said, flustered, “whoever the target audience was doesn’t really matter. It was still an amazing show.”

“The writing is shit half the time and William Shatner overacts everything.”

Peter opened his mouth to argue before he realized that Wade was actually right about something. He shrugged. “Okay, you’re right. But I still like it more than Star Wars.”

“That’s because you’re a people-person. You’re in it for the characters. I’m in it for the explosions and death.”

Peter laughed. “That sounds like you.”

They fell into a comfortable silence that made his entire body light and relaxed and before he realized it, he was leaning against Wade’s shoulder, relishing in the warmth that radiated through their suits. Wade’s lips were twisted into a quivering grin that looked absolutely ridiculous and Peter wanted to pull Wade down to kiss him.

Damn. He needed to leave before he did something impulsive, like press his lips to the corner of Wade’s mouth or trail his fingers down the hard lines of Wade’s muscles or lick the ice cream off Wade’s sticky fingers. Or strip them both bare and let Wade take him on the rooftop against the heat of the setting sun.

That last one was sounding a lot better than it really should, so Peter stuttered a lame excuse and removed himself from Wade’s side.

“Sorry,” Peter mumbled, standing.

“Nah,” Wade said, waving off Peter’s apology. “Don’t worry about it. I promised Ellie that I would go see her tonight, and I’m never late to Bedtime Stories.”

Peter had the most bizarre desire to reach out and wrap Wade up in a hug. “Well, tell her that Spider-Man said ‘Hello’.”

“Will do, Spidey. See ya.” And with that, he dashed towards the edge of the building, throwing himself off with a swan dive and shouting “Parkour!” He landed with a thud, leaving Peter struggling to contain his laughter.

 

 

It was a week before Peter as “Peter Parker, the CEO of Parker Industries” saw Wade again. He wasn’t expecting the knock on his door to come so soon after he called Pizza Hut, but he wasn’t going to complain about it. It was 5 o’clock in the morning and the hunger had pounced on him after the thrill of working on the updates to his newest Spider-Man suit were complete.

He also didn’t expect to find Wade at his door, adorned in the vibrant red Pizza Hut uniform over his red suit and a pizza box in one hand. The color of the shirt was a few shades brighter than the leather and the ball cap made everything worse.

Peter couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of his chest.

“I don’t know if you know this,” Wade said, “but Domino’s is way better.”

“I like the thick crust on Pizza Hut pizzas,” Peter replied, still laughing. He could see the smile beneath Wade’s mask and noticed the shift from one foot to the other in a moment of awkwardness that Peter wasn’t used to seeing on Wade.

“You like ‘em thick, huh? Have you _seen_ my thighs?” Wade’s mask twisted in the way it did when he winked.

Images of Wade’s thighs flashed through Peter’s mind. Wound tight and straining as he fought monsters or launched himself from building to building or sat cross-legged in front of Spider-Man as they attempted to discuss battle strategies. Peter glanced down, his eyes trailing over the silhouette of Wade’s thighs through the suit before he could stop himself.

“Yeah,” Peter said, his voice hoarse. “I have.” Wade’s smile widened and annoyance flared in Peter’s chest. “Why are you here, anyway? Don’t tell me you killed the pizza delivery guy.”

“Don’t worry. I only knocked him out a little.”

“ _A little_?”

“He’ll be fine.”

Peter frowned. “Wade,” he warned.

Wade laughed. “You and Spidey with your upstanding morals.” He shoved the pizza box into Peter’s arms and pushed his way into Peter’s apartment. “Don’t worry. I only bribed him a little and left him naked in an alleyway. I’m sure he’s glad for the break.”

“Wait!” Peter shouted, remembering the Spider-Man Suit that was still laying on his work table in the living room. He shut the door and stumbled after Wade, nearly dropping the pizza box in his haste.

He jerked to a stop at the edge of the room as he watched Wade pick up the Spider-Man suit. He held it up in front of him, handling it delicately, like it was an ancient and powerful artifact that belonged in a museum rather than Peter’s apartment in Queens. Blood pounded in Peter’s ears.

“Is this a collector’s item or the real thing?”

“Uh….”

Wade grinned and set the suit down. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell him that you’re a fan.”

Peter laughed nervously. “Actually, I’ve… um… been working on Mark 23, which is supposed to utilize Stark’s arc reactor technology. I work on them when I can’t sleep. It’s a bit of a hobby.”

“You’re an insomniac?”

Peter shrugged, trying to shake off the nerves that sparked like live wires beneath his skin. Wade didn’t know. He just thought Peter was updating his bodyguard’s suit. “A bit.” He set the pizza box down on the table and flipped it open, breathing in the scent of freshly baked crust and melted cheese. “Did you come here to share food again, or were you wanting to talk about something?”

“I came to mooch off of you. I bought the food last time.”

Peter’s stomach fluttered at the mention of _last time_. “You didn’t eat anything last time.”

“Exactly. Now I can eat and you can sit and watch.”

“No way,” Peter said, pulling a slice of pizza out of the box and devouring it. “Eat or don’t, but I’m starving.”

Wade pulled up his mask, revealing teeth that flashed at Peter like a shark. “Maybe I did come to talk.”

“About… last time?”

“Yeah.”

Peter sighed. Despite the warring thoughts inside his mind of desperately wanting more and wanting to wipe the memory from his mind, Peter never thought he would actually have to address it. It wasn’t like CEO Peter Parker and Mercenary Wade Wilson had much of a relationship outside of their mutual connection to Spider-Man. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Wade never spoke to him again. And Wade wasn’t exactly one to take responsibility for his actions.

But here he was, digging up the memories from last week and setting Peter’s entire body on fire.

“I can’t stop thinking about the other night,” Peter blurted.

Wade sighed, his lips turning into a frown and making him look more exhausted and serious than Peter had ever seen him before. “Peter,” he whispered. “I can’t stop thinking about it either. I don’t even know why I cam here, other than that I was passing by and saw your apartment with the light still on and I couldn’t stop myself.”

“Why?”

Wade shrugged. It was a small, insecure gesture that made Peter’s heart clench. “I don’t know. I think it’s because Spider-Man loves you so much and I thought… I think that if he looks up to you so much, there has to be something really extraordinary about you. I thought if I tried to get to know you, I could learn about how to be a better hero. I could learn how to be _a good person_.”

“And then you kissed me.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Well, you’re gorgeous, for starters,” Wade said, smiling hesitantly. Peter gritted his teeth, irritated that he couldn’t have a serious conversation with Wade for more than a minute before Wade retreated behind his awful sense of humor. “And, let’s be honest, you came onto me. I can’t say I blame you, though. I’m a catch.”

Peter blinked at him, startled by the realization that Wade was right. Peter had started this.

_What the fuck was wrong with me?_

Peter’s mouth went dry. “Oh.”

“Look, Peter, you’re adorable, really, but I’m not really into sleeping with my best friend’s boss.”

Peter’s brain locked onto the words “best friend” and even when Wade started spouting nonsense about threesomes and flexibility, Peter had a hard time focusing on how irritated he should be. He hated the weird mixture of hope and rejection that swam in his head.

“So, you don’t want me?” Peter asked, interrupting Wade’s nonsensical ramble.

Wade hesitated. “Nope. Nada. I definitely do not find your ass extremely firm and round and perfect and I don’t really do relationships with people who are anywhere in the Normal Spectrum.”

“Right.”

“Yeah. So, I definitely wasn’t hoping you would sleep with me again, because that would be insane and, as you can see, I am the perfect model of mental health. And I don’t dream about your perfect lips because, pfft, who would?”

“Who would?” Peter repeated. “I’m obviously a terrible lay.”

“Absolutely awful. I was completely disgusted by those little noises you make. God, and the way you say my name,” Wade shuddered, his breath hitching. Peter watched in disbelief as Wade pulled on the collar of his suit. “Is it hot in here?”

“Wade,” Peter said, “I think you want me.”

Wade hesitated. “Like I said—”

“I think you’re lying.”

Wade stared at him for a moment, cocking his head like a bemused dog. “Maybe you’re not as sane as I thought you were. You’re obviously not really thinking about the fact that I look like Ryan Reynolds was mixed with a Shar-Pei and then put in a blender. Or that I kill people for a living.”

“You _used_ to kill people. You don’t do that anymore. And you’re… you’re not _that_ ugly.”

Wade hooted in laughter. “You don’t need glasses; you need magnifying glasses strapped to your face.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you hesitate so much before.”

Wade smirked. “With great power comes great responsibility.”

“I despise that.”

“I know. That’s why I said it. Oh, and… I don’t know how to tell you this, Your Highness, but there’s… there’s someone else.”

Peter’s throat tightened. “Oh.”

“Yeah. He’s great. You’d love him.” He laughed to himself like he had just told a joke Peter didn’t understand.

Peter cleared his throat. “Then we won’t talk about it again.”

They ate the rest of the pizza in awkward silence before they were both too full to eat anymore. Peter’s eyes were heavy and he swayed on his feet when he stood up to put the rest of the pizza in the fridge.

Wade caught him with steady arms. “Woah there, boss man. Steady.”

Peter smiled blearily up at him and reached up to wrap his arms around Wade’s neck. “You’re so good to me.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No. Just tired. And sad.”

“I think that’s called depression.”

Peter pulled away from him and pressed his palms flat against Wade’s chest. “I don’t have depression, Wade. But I do need sleep, so it would be nice if you would leave now.”

“Are you kicking me out?”

“Unless you want to stay?”

There really must have been someone else, if Wade was actively pulling himself out of this situation. Peter knew he had his wife, – the literal succubus from Hell – but he didn’t think Wade was too worked up about losing her. At least, he never mentioned it to Spider-Man except for one or twice. He had never mentioned anyone else except celebrities or superheroes in passing, and occasionally his celebrity crush on Captain America. Peter thought he would know if Wade liked someone.

Or maybe he just didn’t like Peter. Something dark twisted in Peter’s stomach at that thought, even though he knew he shouldn’t expect Wade to even speak to him.

Peter sighed and started to pull back, only for Wade to grab him by the hips with a startled expression on his face.

“Wade?”

“I just don’t want to hurt you, Peter. There are hundreds of people more deserving of your attention than me.”

Peter frowned at him. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I _do_ want to, I’m just scared and—”

“And there’s someone else.” Wade fell silent and Peter nodded in acknowledgment, ignoring the tightness in his chest. “This doesn’t have to be a relationship thing, and we can stop any time you want.”

“Okay.”

Peter’s next words died in his throat. He wasn’t expecting such a blatant response after Wade had hesitated so much, but Peter supposed Wade didn’t exactly have a large reserve of willpower. They watched each other awkwardly for a moment, unsure what their next move should be. Everything happened so fast last time. There had been no need for words or hesitant kisses. It had been rushed and breathless and definitely not perfect, but passionate all the same.

Peter licked his lips and stepped forward. His hands came up to cup Wade’s face, his thumbs trailing gentle touches across his leather-clad cheeks. “Okay,” Peter breathed softly and was rewarded by Wade shivering beneath his fingertips. “Can I take your mask off?”

“Only if you want to go blind.”

Peter laughed. “You’re not that ugly, you know? You’re actually kind of handsome when you keep your mouth shut.”

“I think you need your eyes checked. Or your head, because you’re either blind or insane. Or a demon from Hell, like my wife. She always thought I was hot, but I guess she could either choose me or Satan, and I’m pretty sure Satan’s gay.”

“Oh my God. Will you shut up?”

“Why? Is Petey trying to be romantic?”

“No, I’m trying to kiss you and I can’t kiss you while you’re talking. Or with your mask on.” He fingered the lining of Wade’s mask for a moment before slipping his fingers beneath it and stroking over the rough, warm skin on Wade’s neck. Wade shivered, his breath hitching. Peter smirked.

Wade sighed dramatically, like this was the worst thing he would ever have to do. “Fine,” he said, already reaching to pull his mask off. He tossed it onto the counter and beamed down at Peter with those bright, gleeful eyes that had once annoyed Peter, but now made his heart twist.

Peter huffed laughter against Wade’s lips and kissed him softly. Wade’s hands found their way to Peter’s hips and yanked him flush against him. Peter felt Wade’s tongue flick across his lips, and Peter opened his mouth to allow Wade to slip inside. Peter shuddered and wrapped his arms around Wade’s neck.

“Wade,” Peter gasped. He groaned, his nails digging into Wade’s suit and relishing the feeling of Wade’s muscles rippling beneath them. Wade pressed forward, forcing Peter to stumble backward until his back hit the wall with a muffled gasp.

Peter’s teeth caught of Wade’s lips and pulled. Those soft, gorgeous lips that smiled brighter than the sun and whispered filthy words into Peter’s ears, just to see him red-faced and angry. They were softer than Peter ever expected them to be – not that he had ever thought about what they would feel like pressed against his own – and Peter bit down hard. The taste of iron spilled into Peter’s mouth and Wade moaned, his hips rolling.

Peter made a choking noise in the back of his throat, his cock quickly hardening in his jeans, and pulled away to mutter a quiet “Oh.”

“How far are we going, Petey?” Wade panted. “Will you let me out of this suit?”

Peter’s fingers searched for the zipper at Wade’s back. The metallic zip made his cock jolt and soon Peter’s fingers were on Wade’s warm, rough skin and Wade’s suit was slipping off his shoulders.

Peter pushed Wade back enough that he could appreciate his figure, standing tall and bulky before him. Wade’s skin looks like it has been peeled off and glued back in all the wrong places, but his body was the thing that has been driving Peter crazy since… well, since they had been webbed together while fighting Dormammu. He was all hard angles and firm muscle that made Peter’s head dizzy and his hands itch to trace the outline of his body.

Then Peter remembered where they were and what they were doing, and realized that he _could_ run his hands over every square inch of Wade’s body if he wanted to. He could press his tongue to Wade’s neck and feel the blood pulse warm and dangerous, and he could gaze into Wade’s dazzling blue eyes until they both forgot what it was they were trying to accomplish. But that last one might be toeing the line of the relationship thing that Wade didn’t want, so Peter settled for tracing a single delicate finger across Wade’s scars, making a dark, rough sound in the back of his throat when Wade’s muscles rolled lithely.

Wade rolled his shoulders back and flexed his pecs. “I know, I’m a looker. I’m surprised HotGuys.com TM hasn’t contracted me yet.”

Peter scoffed and leaned forward to kiss him again. “Let’s go to the bedroom, dumbass.”

Wade nodded vigorously and allowed Peter to lead him into the bedroom. He froze in the doorway, his jaw hanging open as he took in the items scattered across Peter’s room and the size of the closet and the huge white bed in the middle, which Peter hadn’t made up that day and now regretted it.

“Sorry my room is such a mess,” Peter began. “I—”

But Wade wasn’t listening. His face brightened into the gleeful expression of a kid who had arrived at the gates of Disney World and he dove not-so-gracefully onto the bed, giggling. His laughter only amplified when he bounced half a foot into the air before landing.

“Your bed is a fucking island! Why do you need such a huge bed?”

Peter laughed and settled down beside him. “I have money coming out of my ears thanks to Mr. Stark helping me set up Parker Industries. I keep trying to donate it or invest it in the company, but there always seems to be more. I grew up as a poor kid in downtown Queens and then a poorer college student, so I’m really not used to all this money, and I live by myself, so all I really needed was a small apartment. And I still have all of this money.”

“So… you bought this Hulk of a bed just because?”

Peter pulled his shirt off and crawled towards Wade until he was leaning over him. “Yes?”

Wade laughed and kissed him. “You could donate to the ‘Save Wade Wilson’ fund. I would be happy to take a couple million off your hands.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night, knowing every day another part of Wade Wilson dies.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who’s trying to erase your guilt, remember?”

“Nope. Never happened.”

“Whatever, Wade. Just get me out of these clothes.”

“Your wish is my command, Your Royal Hotness,” Wade said and pulled Peter down by the waistband of his jeans. Their hips pressed together and Peter groaned softly against Wade’s mouth. Wade hummed thoughtfully and trailed his fingers down Peter’s stomach.

Peter jolted at the touch, fire spilling into his belly, and bucked down against Wade’s hips. He squeezed his eyes shut and bit out a needy “Wade.” He flatted his body against Wade’s, burying his face in his shoulder and breathing in the smell of steel and gunpowder. His hips were rolling on their own will, desperately searching for friction and finding very little through Peter’s jeans.

Wade panted in Peter’s ear, his breath sending shivers down Peter’s spine. “If you don’t stop,” he managed to gasp, his fingers splayed across the sides of Peter’s jeans, “I won’t be able to take your pants off.”

Trembling, Peter pulled himself away enough that Wade could unbutton his pants. Peter kicked them off and they landed on the floor somewhere near his discarded shirt. Wade’s underwear followed suit.

Peter licked his lips, regarding Wade’s naked form with the same heady desire from earlier. His fingers tiptoed across Wade’s collarbone and slid around Wade’s throat, tightening just enough that Peter could feel his racing pulse. “Damn,” he whispered. “Damn….”

“People usually say that with a negative connotation when they look at me,” Wade said jokingly.

Peter shook his head. “Your skin is scarred, but your body… it’s so….” His eyelashes fluttered and the hand that wasn’t wrapped around Wade’s neck moved to absentmindedly stroke Peter’s dick. “You’re gorgeous.”

Wade whimpered, his body shifting against Peter’s. He threw his head back against the pillows. “Thanks,” he choked. “You’re pretty okay, too.”

Peter grinned and opened his eyes. “Dumbass.”

“Hey, my ass isn’t just dumb. It’s also _gorgeous_.” He gave Peter a manic grin and, without warning, he flipped them over. Peter squeaked and landed with his legs wrapped around Wade’s waist. “I’ll even let you squeeze it if you ask nicely.”

Peter laughed and kicked his heels into Wade’s ass. “Come on, come on, Wade.”

Wade’s eyes trailed down the expanse of Peter’s bare chest and stomach with an intensity that made Peter’s skin feel much too hot. His dick was still straining against the confines of his boxers, staining them dark with precum, and after a moment Wade seemed to realize that, too. Wade’s fingers dipped beneath the waistband, brushing Peter’s skin and making his stomach swoop. With a single motion, Peter lifted his hips and Wade slid them off and tossed them somewhere into the void of Peter’s room.

Wade leaned back to gaze down at the cock curving up before him. It was pink and wet, slick with the precum that was beading at the head, and Wade thumbed the tip. Peter gasped, thrusting up into Wade’s hand.

Peter’s arm flew out, blindly searching for the lube he kept in his dresser. His fingers curled around the familiarly-shaped bottle and tossed it into Wade’s chest, who caught it and stared down at it like he had no idea what it was or why it was in his hands.

Wade swallowed thickly. “So… ah… we’re really doing this?”

Peter sat up on his elbows so he could properly see him. “Unless you don’t want to?”

Wade bobbed his head awkwardly. “Okay. Yeah. Just checking.”

“Wade—”

“No, I’m good. Really good, actually,” he breathed, his eyes darkening as they raked down Peter’s body again.

“Nervous?”

“Me? Nervous? Ha!” But Wade bit his lip and flicked open the bottle without meeting Peter’s eyes, and his hands were shaking as he poured lube onto his fingers. Peter watched him as Wade rolled the lube around on his fingers and pressed one against Peter’s hole.

Peter sucked in a breath and tipped his head back to stare up at the ceiling. His entire body was coated in a sheen of sweat and his breath was already coming panted and ragged, and Wade had barely even touched him. Wade pushed in and Peter groaned, and it wasn’t enough. Peter could tell Wade was being gentle with him, but Peter had a healing factor, too, and was maybe a little too impulsive for his own good. He bucked back to impale himself further on Wade’s finger, and with a chuckle, Wade slipped another one in.

“I never realized how impatient you were, Peter,” Wade said smugly. “I have a monster, hotblooded Canadian cock. I want to make sure you’re ready for it.”

Peter smacked at Wade’s shoulder weakly. “Have I ever mentioned that I hate you?”

“Not explicitly, although I can read between the lines.”

Wade pushed in another finger and curled it sweetly. A needy whine ripped itself out of Peter’s throat as he arched up. Wade swiped a tongue across his lips and did it again, turning Peter into a writhing, whimpering mess.

Wade finally pulled out, leaving Peter feeling empty only for a moment before Wade lined his cock up against Peter’s hole and Peter had a moment of stunning clarity where he wondered _what the fuck am I doing?_ And then Wade was pushing in and driving all coherent thoughts out of Peter’s mind.

They both moaned as Wade filled him. Wade’s cock was wider than Peter expected it to be, and for a moment all Peter could do was stare at Wade with his eyes wide and his mouth open. Wade wore a similar expression as they both adjusted to the searing heat of each other.

“You alright, darlin’?” Wade gasped. He gripped Peter’s thighs until Peter was sure they would bruise if it weren’t for his healing factor, and Peter’s mewled at the pressure of it.

He nodded frantically. “Yes. Please, Wade, just move.”

Wade drew out before slamming back in and Peter moaned, his arms coming up to hold Wade against his chest. And if Wade was surprised by Peter’s strength, he didn’t say anything. They moved together, Peter bucking up to match each thrust with vigor. His nails dug into Wade’s skin, not caring that they drew blood because Wade’s eyes rolled back at the feeling of his flesh being torn apart.

Their moans grew louder, driving each other higher and higher until they were each holding each other like their boat was about to sink. Wade turned his head to lick across the smooth expanse of Peter’s ear, and his hands impossibly tightened around Peter’s legs. His entire body tensed and then he was spilling, fiery hot inside him.

Peter twitched and groaned as Wade rocked through it, pressing down against Peter with his entire weight. “Come on,” Wade hissed against Peter’s lips.

Peter’s stomach clenched and his dick, caught between them, slipped once more against Wade’s stomach. He came with a shout, his fingers clutching at the bedsheet.

Wade bit down a moan as he pulled out and Peter melted into the bedsheets. Wade rolled onto his back beside Peter and they both stared up at the ceiling, panting. Peter knew that they should clean up before cum dried in his ass and spilled all over Peter’s bed, but he also couldn’t bring himself to care enough to make his body move. All he wanted to do was sleep.

He felt something warm and wet against his stomach, and his eyes fluttered open to find Wade cleaning him with a washcloth.

“Relax, baby boy,” Wade said, his voice gentle like a lullaby. “You don’t need to do anything.”

“Thank you.”

Wade hummed. “Just remember who owns your ass.” He grinned and smacked Peter’s butt, who wiggled in response.

“God?

“No. The government. God’s not real.”

Peter laughed, and Wade’s eyes softened. “Where did you even come from?”

“Do I really need to have the sex talk with you, Peter? When two Canadians love each other very much—”

“Idiot,” Peter mumbled. His eyes were so heavy that Peter didn’t think he would ever be able to open them again. He patted the spot beside him, and when Wade laid down beneath the covers, Peter curled up against his chest.”

“Peter—”

“No. Hush. Just sleep.”

Wade hesitated, but after a moment he relaxed against him and Peter felt his arm wrap around Peter’s waist.

“G’night,” Peter said

“Good night, sweetheart,” Wade whispered against Peter’s forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter might take after Tony only a little bit. I know not everything in here is plot-accurate, but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯. I hope you enjoyed! The next chapter should be up next Wednesday, and hopefully there will be Tony Stark in all his wonderful glory because he deserves to live (even if this isn't going to be MCU!Tony who has a father-son relationship with Peter).


	3. The Crazy Cat Lady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some of you were probably hoping for the same father/son dynamic that Tony and Peter have in the movies, but since this fic is mostly based on the comics, I decided not to do that. And Tony and Peter definitely do not have the best relationship in the comics, mostly because Peter won't put up with any of his bullshit. I still tried to make it friendly, though, because I didn't get enough of them together in Endgame.

“Thank you, Ms. Lyon,” Peter said, waving away the pompous young heir to the Lyon Corporation. Peter could barely remember what her company did, other than something related to shoes that did nothing other than look nice and drain your wallet.

Kathie Lyon batted her eyelashes at him, a light blush drawing over her cheeks as her eyes clawed down the length of his body. His hair stood on end and he suddenly felt as though something green and slimy had just slipped down the back of his shirt. “It is always a pleasure speaking with you, Mr. Parker. I certainly hope that less time will pass before we see each other again.”

Peter bobbed his head. “Of course.”

She giggled and waved a brightly clawed hand at him as she floated back into the sea of people. The moment she disappeared behind the grey wall of tuxes and business suits, Peter breathed a sigh of relief, the tension draining from his muscles.

He hated this. All the fake, toothy smiles and iron walls and the dull atmosphere of business events. No one cared about anyone else. All they wanted was the money that they already had more of than they could possibly ever need.

He wanted the satisfaction of a good fight, to hear the crack of his fist against someone’s nose and to swing through the streets until the stiffness in his muscles dissolved Or until the heat that lingered under his skin faded, because he was having trouble keeping his mind from wandering back to the feeling of Wade’s lips on his neck and the stretch of his own body as Wade opened him up. Wade’s groans were still fresh in his ears, and he was dizzy with it.

Anna Maria had given him a suspicious look when she’d dragged him out to dinner several nights ago, when Peter was still in New York and not stuck in a cage in Philadelphia. She’d chewed her food slowly, watching him as he struggled to keep the dopey grin off his face.

“You got laid, didn’t you?” she asked on their way home. It startled him so much that he accidentally tossed his phone into the air and watched in horror as it smacked against the side of the taxi driver’s head.

“OhmyGodI’msosorryIdidn’tmeanto,” he gushed, his entire face bright red. He picked the phone off the ground and glared at Anna Maria. “What the hell?”

Anna Maria snickered. “Please. I know you. You have a look.”

“I don’t have ‘a look,’” Peter grumbled. “Shut up.”

Anna Maria laughed again, but didn’t press him on the details. It was one of the many things he loved about her. She knew he would tell her when he was ready.

Even though the idiotic grin stayed plastered to his face, there were darker thoughts swirling through his head as well. Like the knowledge that Wade liked someone else. He knew he had no right to care. It wasn’t like he had ever cared when Wade flirted with someone else, and it wasn’t like he _like_ liked Wade, right? Sex was just good stress relief, that’s all.

Yeah, Peter wasn’t that stupid.

He huffed and Anna Maria raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, what have you been up to recently? It feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

Peter shrugged. “Just work stuff.”

“And here I was under the impression that you were busy fighting those new villains.”

“What new villains?”

“The ones that the media won’t shut up about. They’re calling themselves ‘The Chosen.’”

Peter frowned. He had heard about that. The Chosen were an anti-mutant group that nobody seemed to know very much about, except that they were supposedly the source of the mutant children that had been disappearing lately, along with a couple of very powerful adult mutants that S.H.I.E.L.D had been keeping on their radar. The speculation from the media ranged from government conspiracies to cultist nonsense about the group being sent by God himself to return the world to its natural order. The only thing that seemed certain, however, was that they always left their victims’ heads mounted on a stick, their foreheads branded with a cross.

He thought that the Avengers were handling the situation, but as the month wore on more murders popped up. Peter would have put on his suit and joined them, but most of the attacks were located in Pennsylvania and Peter didn’t have a good business reason for visiting Pennsylvania just yet. He learned his lesson last time that the owner of a multi-billion-dollar corporation can’t just up and leave New York without facing some major speculating from the media. He had found himself in a supposed affair with Black Widow, who he had apparently left to raise their three children alone. Anna Maria hadn’t stopped laughing about it for months afterward.

“The Avengers are trying, but they haven’t been able to pinpoint their location,” Anna Maria explained. “They keep a base for a single night – two at the most – before abandoning ship and going somewhere else. All they seem to want to do is kidnap and kill any mutant they can get their hands on.”

“And you think _I_ can find them when even the Avengers can’t?”

Anna Maria crossed her arms over her chest and glowered at him. “Maybe not, but it isn’t like you to sit by and do nothing.”

Peter huffed and looked away, but he knew she was right. The more coverage The Chosen got, the more desperate Peter grew to stop it. To at least try to do something.

And that was how he ended up spending his Saturday night in a room full of old white men who had nothing better to do than gorge themselves on steak and brag about the size of their market empires. Everything in the room was painted a blinding white, accented only by a sprinkle of gold and silver. It was suffocating and exorbitant and Peter desperately wanted to get out of there as fast as he could.

The man who had cornered Peter after Lyon left finally shook Peter’s hand and wandered off, apparently satisfied with how interested Peter was in future investments in his company. Peter deflated. His shoulders sank and his fingers rubbed circles into the ache in his neck that only intensified the longer he stood there.

If Peter had known – _really_ known – what running a business meant, he wouldn’t have done it. All he wanted to do was work on his machines in peace and occasionally have the freedom to swing through the streets, drunk on the wind whipping through his hair and the adrenaline of saving those who were otherwise powerless.

A hard pat on Peter’s back jerked him from his thoughts. He jolted and the champagne in his hands almost tipped over. “Hello, Mr. Parker,” Tony Stark said, gripping Peter’s shoulder warmly. Peter turned to face him. “How are you and Spider-Man doing?”

Peter gave Tony a tight-lipped smile. Spider-Man had been an accepted member of the Avenger’s, and although Peter would have done anything for him, Tony had never liked Peter Parker much. Tony was always trying to tinker with Spider-Man’s suits or give him tech that he knew Peter already had or criticize Peter to Spider-Man’s face, thinking nothing would come of it.

“Hello, Mr. Stark. Have you gotten into any fights recently?”

“Yes, actually.” Tony laughed and swirled his champagne around in his glass. “It feels like someone new is trying to kill me every week, especially now that S.H.I.E.L.D. has us looking for the Chosen Ones or whatever it is that they’re called. My eye is totally covered in Pepper’s makeup right now, but don’t tell anybody about that.”

Peter chuckled. The skin around Tony’s right eye did seem cakier than the rest of his face, but whoever did his makeup was apparently very skilled because if Peter had been looking for it, he wouldn’t have been able to tell.

“It looks good, actually.”

“I know. Women are all artists, I guess. I wouldn’t even be able to match the color of my skin.” He shook his head and grinned mischievously at Peter. “We’re supposed to be talking business, Mr. Parker, and instead we’re talking about makeup.”

“Makeup is definitely a business. You could stop making weapons and make a foundation that changes to match your skin color instead.”

“Oh yeah?” Tony raised an intrigued eyebrow. “Or… mood eyeshadow.”

“Or lipstick with a built-in microphone.”

“A beauty blender that doubles as a tracker.”

They both laughed and for a moment Peter forgot why they never got along. “You know, if we’re supposed to be talking business, then I would definitely set up a makeup company with you.”

“Black Widow will be thrilled.”

“You think Loki would invest.”

“Probably. I bet he would only want things in black and green, though.”

“Hey, black lipstick is punk.”

“Oh, oh, we could—” Tony cut off, laughing hysterically now. It was contagious and Peter found laughter bubbling up in his own chest as well. “We could make Avenger’s themed makeup.”

“ _Oh my God_ ,” Peter gasped much too loudly. People were staring at them now, but he didn’t care. He giggled and nudged Tony’s shoulder. “That’s the best idea I’ve ever heard.”

“We should patent it so no one steals the idea from us.”

They grinned at each other and for the first time Peter felt real affection from Tony, for _Peter Parker_ , not Spider-Man, and it felt amazing. A giddy warmth welled up in his chest.

Then Tony blinked and shook his head and all the warmth in his eyes was gone. He cleared his throat and took a step back. “I guess I should get back to… um… to business.” He chuckled at his own pun. “It was nice talking to you.”

“Oh,” Peter whispered. “Yeah. It was good talking to you, too.”

Tony glanced back at him with an unusually soft expression on his face before disappearing into the crowd, leaving Peter alone again. He knew it wouldn’t be long before another ostentatious man or woman wearing a wolfish smile approached him again, seeking an investment or a review on their product or simply to gather information for whatever media outlet they worked for. He leaned back against the pristine white walls and sipped his champagne, pursing his lips at the bitterness and allowing himself a moment of solitude. He allowed himself to revel in the warmth that Tony Stark’s laughter and jovial smiles had filled him with.

Peter knew that no one really cared for him that much outside of his Spider-Man persona. He had been a loser in high school, the mysterious kid with a secret past in college, and now he was a misfit among the power-hungry sharks. He didn’t fit in, and although he should have been used to that by now, he couldn’t quell the ache in his bones when he thought about it. He hated how awkward he still felt in his own skin, even at twenty-eight.

Spider-Man set him free. He didn’t have to be who anyone expected him to be, and that was a gift that he once never even hoped of having, but people seemed to like him more as Spider-Man than as Peter Parker. It wasn’t hard to figure out why. Spider-Man was a hero, and Peter Parker was the owner of a multi-billion-dollar corporation. Whereas most people would trust Spider-Man with their lives, they wouldn’t even trust Peter Parker to watch over their child for three minutes.

He got it. Of course, he got it. It was how he had seen Tony Stark before he was Iron Man, when all he was known for was sponsoring wars out of greed and sleeping with women no matter what their age or how much power he had over them. CEO’s were all crooks, all power-hungry, all sexual predators.

He understood it, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Peter’s thoughts were shattered by the intense tingling traveling down his neck and the hair that suddenly stood on end. His eyes caught on a young woman in the opposite corner of the room who slipped some sort of device into her bra, her eyes scanning the room for any sign that someone had seen her. Her gaze caught on Peter, who was now staring openly at her. She scowled at him, her eyes flashing golden, and Peter’s blood froze with the deep sense that something was wrong.

His head whipped around in search of Mr. Stark, who was lost to the crowd. Peter gritted his teeth. If something went wrong, he needed to have Mr. Stark on full alert so he could save as many people as possible.

He kept his eye on the young woman as he pushed his way through the maze of people. “Mr. Stark,” he hissed, reaching out for him. “Tony.”

Tony jolted and he spun when Peter’s hand landed on his shoulder, his jaw clenched, his fist coming up to defend himself. His face was deathly pale and for an instant, Peter was terrified that he had set Tony into a panic attack. Then he saw Peter and the tension dropped from his shoulders.

“What—?”

“I’m sorry,” Peter whispered, “but something is happening. I think everyone here is in danger.”

“Why? What happened?”

“I’m not sure, but I saw this woman slip something into her shirt and I just… have a feeling.”

Tony’s eyebrows drew together, but he didn’t press for a further explanation. “Well, what are we going to do about it?”

“I’m going to follow her and make sure nothing bad happens. Will you stay here and protect these people? That’s priority number one.”

“Woah, woah. Wait. Shouldn’t _I_ be the one who fights the bad guys? I’m the man with the suit and – no offense, but you don’t exactly look like hero material.”

Peter laughed. “I wouldn’t bet my life on that if I were you.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Why? You stealing my tech, Parker?”

“Just keep these people safe. Hopefully, nothing bad will happen.”

He didn’t wait to hear Tony’s confused response before he rushed off. People leaped out of his way as he quickly shoved himself toward the outside of the crowd, where he had last seen the young woman. When he got there, however, she was nowhere to be seen.

He spun in a circle, trying to catch any unusual movements. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a side door slide shut just as a flash of a dark dress disappeared behind it.

The hair on the back of Peter’s neck stood on end and his pupils dilated.

“Sorry. Excuse me. Move, please.” He skirted his way past the buffet table and dashed through the empty pockets of space along the edges of the room. He tore the door open and pounded down the first few steps until he heard the door slam shut behind him.

He threw himself over the railing and plummeted down several flights of stairs before he thwipped his web out and swung down to the platform where the young woman was about to exit through another door.

“Wait!” Peter shouted. “Are you with the Chosen?”

The woman growled at him, bearing fanged teeth and slitted eyes. Peter flinched back in surprise. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with, Mr. Parker. Stay out of our way, and we’ll stay out of yours.”

“Would you care to explain? Or are you late to your vet appointment?” The woman crouched and snarled, her muscles coiled to pounce. Peter took a step back, even as he found the sight of a grown woman on all fours funny. Until she unsheathed her bladed claws. “Come on, can’t we talk about this?”

She pounced, brandishing her claws and slashing through the air, and Peter just barely managed to leap out of the way. She spun to face him, her hair wild and filthy and her green eyes constricting into thin slits. Scars and bruises traced the length of her body. Looking at her now, he had no idea how she had managed to fit into the crowd of old white men with nicely pressed suits and ethereal trophy wives.

“I don’t even know your name,” Peter said. “I’m going to call you—Woah!” He swung from one of the railings as the woman leaped again, attempting in vain to crawl her way up to him. He managed to web her hand to the wall, but she lashed out with her free nails. He cried out in pain as she ripped into his flesh, tearing open his pant leg.

He gritted his teeth as he landed on the nearest wall. Blood was soaking through the bottom of his pants now, and a wave of irritation washed over him. He’d just bought these, and now they were ruined. Anna Maria was going to kill him.

He twisted away from her as she lunged again. “No need to get hiss-terical!” He laughed, but his premature smile vanished as he watched the cat woman scratch his webbing apart with her bare claws. Peter swallowed thickly.

She let out a high-pitched animalistic screech that Peter felt in his teeth, like iron on concrete. “Come down from there, little spider,” she purred. “I only want a nibble.”

“So, you _can_ talk. Purrhaps you could give me your name. I only want it for when I turn you into the police.”

The woman laughed, her voice like sandpaper. “I think the media will be more preoccupied with the fact that the owner of Parker Industries is Spider-Man.”

“Maybe you’re right. Un _fur_ tunately for you, they’ll never find out.”

She wrinkled her nose at Peter’s admittedly terrible pun, but Peter didn’t let her think about it for long before he swung over her head again, shooting his webs out in long, thick lines and wrapping her up like a fly. He landed on one of the metal railings, his chest puffed out in triumph. She grunted and strained against the cocoon until the force of her struggling toppled her over.

“Looks like I’ve won,” Peter said.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” the woman panted.

Peter raised an eyebrow at her before the chill began seeping into his skin. His eyes widened and he looked down in shock at the metal cuff around his wrist. He held out his arm to examine it and shook his hand lightly. The cuff didn’t budge.

“What is this?”

“Let’s see if it works, shall we?” She bit the webbing around her chest, pulling and ripping, not caring to distinguish between the web and her own flesh. Blood dripped down her arms, but she didn’t seem to notice. Peter cursed under his breath and dodged her as she leaped toward him.

He swung up a flight of stairs and scrambled to find purchase on the concrete wall. Instead of sticking like he expected to, he fell backward and landed hard on his back. He gasped for breath, his lungs constricting with the force of his fall.

He groaned and pushed himself to his trembling legs. He wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, but he knew he couldn’t stay on the floor. This woman was going to flay him into bloody red ribbons. But when he staggered to his feet, he found her running away from him. Peter, his heart pumped full of adrenaline, ran forward just in time to see her press a large red button.

A loud boom echoed overhead.

Cement rained down around them as metal creaked and groaned. Panic surged through him and his first thought was that there were people trapped several floors above him. He had to get to them, to help them before the building collapsed.

And then he thought that most of them were probably already dead. He remembered the object she slipped into her dress earlier that night, upstairs by the food and drinks. The blast radius might have destroyed the entire floor.

He hoped Mr. Stark had done what he asked and gotten everyone to safety.

The building shook, threatening to collapse any moment, and he knew he needed to get out of there. He raced forward, dodging large blocks of concrete and metal pipes and sprayed water all over the floor. The crunch of concrete echoed overhead and Peter watched the sadistic, knowing grin that leaped onto the woman’s face.

Peter screamed. His body exploded in pain. Rubble showered him with grey dust and a large slab of concrete landed on his back, pushing all the air from his lungs and threatening to pop all his internal organs. He gasped, unable to find the strength to lift himself off the floor.

“Help!” he choked, knowing that no one would hear him. He was going to die here. The savage woman was either going to rip his heart out with her fangs, swallow it whole or serve it to her boss on a silver platter, or she was going to leave him here to suffocate, never to be found while he the oxygen was cut from his vital organs and his body was left without water. He wasn’t sure which was better.

Apparently, it was going to be the first one because the woman smirked and marched toward him, her head held high. Peter whimpered. He tried to push the weight off his back even as his muscles screamed, but his strength was gone. Peter trembled as he watched the woman’s smooth, catlike movements.

“Looks like I’ve won,” she purred. She crouched down and grabbed Peter by his chin. “Don’t worry. This won’t hurt for long.”

Then everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that Wade wasn't in this chapter, but this fic ended up being a lot more plot-based than I initially thought it would be.


	4. Iron Poisoning and Faux Mysterio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me yelling "fuck you!" at both canon and Marvel's wonky Spider-Man timeline. I'm not even trying to keep it straight anymore.

When Peter woke, tied to a chair and choking on the smell of wood and gunpowder, he found himself shrouded in darkness. Light peered into the room through the cracks in the door several yards in front of him. His arms ached from being bound stiffly behind him and a vein in his temple throbbed incessantly. He groaned and lifted his head just enough to see his surroundings and found that the muscles in his neck were just as achy and weak as the rest of his body.

He was alone. Apparently, whoever had kidnapped him had either decided he posed little threat to them, or he had been abandoned and left to die in a rundown building. Peter really hoped it wasn’t the latter because he needed to use the bathroom and he didn’t feel like peeing on himself for the first time in two decades.

He stretched his fingers, willing the blood to flow back into his hands, and tested the strength of his legs, which were also bound to the chair. He rolled his eyes. Years ago, he would have panicked, but now all he was concerned about was getting out of here without exposing his alter ego to anyone in the surrounding area.

His eyes searched the room for cameras and found none. He couldn’t hear voices in the distance or feel vibrations through the floor, and his spider sense was eerily silent, but he supposed he wasn’t in any immediate danger.

Peter chuckled to himself. He’d been doing this for too long if he didn’t consider this an “immediate danger.”

“Alright, Peter,” he whispered to the empty room. “Let’s get out of these restraints first and figure the rest out later.”

But as he strained against the ropes, he found that his super strength seemed to have fled his body. And his mind felt weird and hazy, like when the words on a page began to blur and even the simplest phrases were incomprehensible.

Peter froze when the metal door screeched open. A woman dressed in all black – save for her white lab coat that swished around her like a cape – entered, followed by a heavily armed group who looked like they had just broken out of prison. Among them was the cat woman, who narrowed her slitted eyes at him.

“Hello, Mr. Parker.” Peter’s attention snapped back to the woman who had entered first. One of the men pulled out a collapsible metal chair and set it in front of Peter, and the woman sat down before him with flourish, smoothing her black dress and pushing her glasses up. She smiled elegantly at him, her lipstick the shade of blood.

“My name is Lauren Walsh. I’m the head scientist here.”

“Where am I?” Peter asked, refusing to exchange pleasantries with his captor. He lifted his wrists as much as he could, with the bindings and metal cuff around his wrists. “What are these things?”

She smiled at him. She was beautiful, with dark skin and wavy black hair, and when she fluttered her eyelashes at him, Peter felt heat creep into his cheeks. “Do you like them? I haven’t decided on a name yet, but my assistants are affectionately calling them terminators.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “ _Terminators_? Like the robots?”

“It’s a working title. We call them that because they terminate mutants like you.”

“Somehow – and I know this is crazy – I figured that out. I meant: how do they work? What are they made of? Who built them?”

She crossed her hands over her dress and leaned back in the metal chair. “They’re made of an iron alloy that absorbs into the skin, causing all sorts of side effects. In normal humans, iron poisoning can cause confusion, muscle weakness, et cetera. In mutants, it diminishes the effects of their powers. We’ve been able to administer it in such high doses that it works fairly quickly.”

“Why? Why are you doing this? Mutants are good, for the most part. Most of the superheroes are mutants. I don’t understand.”

Dr. Walsh sighed. “Mr. Parker, you saw the attack in New York in 2012, right? You saw the destruction that was left in the wake of the Avengers.”

Peter frowned. This conversation sounded oddly familiar. “Yeah,” he said hesitantly. “But they—”

“And you’ve seen what Magneto and Scarlet Witch have done?”

“Um… yes? But Magneto is—”

“And I even hear that you’re friends with Deadpool now. The hitman. The man who kills whoever he wants, whenever he wants, usually for whoever will pay him the largest sum of money.”

Peter scowled at her, irritation flaring in his chest. “What’s your point?”

“My _point_ is that mutants are dangerous. And they’re unnatural. They go against the natural order of things. They go against God.”

Peter’s stomach lurched, buried shame and disgust bubbling up in his chest. Now _this_ , this he remembered.

“God?” Peter bit out, pushing down the taunts and jeers in his mind. “I thought you were the head scientist, Dr. Walsh. I didn’t expect you, of all people, to still believe in things like gods.”

“I used to think like that, but I’ve seen gods like Thor and Loki walk the earth. And if they exist, why can’t the Christian God?”

Peter frowned. “So… you’re basing all your schemes on the belief in God?” He swallowed thickly and adjusted his approach. “But… don’t you think maybe this was His plan all along?”

Dr. Walsh shook her head. “Most mutants were genetically altered after birth. They or someone else changed them, made them into freaks and savages. It was a choice they made.”

Peter stiffened. “What?”

“Think of it as a cleanse. All mutants will wear these cuffs, which serve two purposes. First, to signal to the others that they’re not human. And second, to erase their dangerous powers.”

Peter stared at her as his mouth floundered for something to say, something to make her realize that was she was saying was absolutely insane. “Wh—wait. What about… what about Iron Man? All he has is his suit, but he’s still extremely powerful.”

“That’s a different matter entirely. Tony Stark is a man of science.”

Peter blinked at her in disbelief. “So, basically, you’re a huge bigot.”

Dr. Walsh smiled sweetly. “You’re blind to your own faults. And you’re powerless to stop us.” She stood and clasped her hands behind her back. “Don’t worry. You’ll thank me one day.”

She gestured to one of the men, who stepped forward with a syringe with the longest needle Peter had ever seen. His heart jumped and adrenaline raced through his veins. “What are you going to do with me?”

“Experiment on you. The cuffs are a temporary thing for now, but the eventual hope is to erase your powers for good. With your help, I can figure out how to do that.”

The man stepped forward and plunged the syringe into Peter’s vein, and nausea bubbled up in his stomach as he watched his blood fill the barrel. When he was done, he stepped back and handed the syringe to Dr. Walsh, who took it gingerly between her fingers.

“Excellent. We’re done here for now. Bring him into the experimentation chamber in a few hours, after you’ve inspected the blood sample.”

She snapped her fingers, and her sycophants swarmed around her. Peter ripped at his restraints, panic seizing him. “You’ll kill me!”

Dr. Walsh tittered and waved the concern away. “Why should I care? You’re just a filthy dog, anyway.”

They moved as one toward the door and were about to open it when gunshots echoed through the building, ringing in Peter’s ears and lighting up the ceiling. The walls shook and crumbled, and the bodyguards surrounding Dr. Walsh shouted for cover as they formed a living shield around her.

A blur of red fell through the ceiling, screaming “Chimichangas!” and Peter failed to keep the grin off his face. He pressed himself back against the chair, squeezing his eyes shut against the wood flying through the air. There was a loud grunt as the blur slammed into the ground, landing on one knee.

“Ah, fuck!” he shouted through gritted teeth. “Superhero landings hurt like a stick in the ass!” He looked over at Peter, who shook his head in disbelief. “Did I look cool, though?” He wheezed, twirling his katanas. “Did you miss me?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “You’re late.”

“Yeah, well, I had to pick up Ellie from daycare. You know how it is.”

“Right, of course. My bad.”

Wade grinned and lowered himself into a fighting stance. The villains surrounding them stiffened and drew their weapons. It was immediately obvious to Peter that Wade had seem more battles and much more bloodshed that any of the other people in this room. He swaggered as he approached them, his mask twisting around a lax smile.

“Anyone want to back out now? I might not even shoot you on your way out the door.” The villains raised their guns.

Wade rolled his neck and Peter wrinkled his nose at the sickening sound of bones popping. “Well, I gave you a chance. You guys are the idiots who were too stupid to jump at the chance.”

“Be careful!” Peter shouted. “They have devices that erase your powers.” And Peter really did not need a dead Wade Wilson on his conscious right now. Not after everything else he’s done to him. “And the lady in the white lab coat is the head scientist. She—”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Wade assured him. “Just leave it to the heroes, baby.” He laughed maniacally and ran into the gunfire, spraying bullets and leaping off one woman’s scowling face. “Speaking of heroes!” Wade shouted as Peter watched in exasperation. “Where’s your boy, Spider-Man? I was looking forward to seeing him today.”

“I don’t know, preoccupied with something else? Will you focus? And try not to kill anyone, please?”

Wade pulled back as he swung his katana at a woman’s head and swooped down to slice her Achilles’ tendon instead. She toppled to the ground with a strangled scream.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say _you_ were Spider-Man.” He dodged a blow to the head and charged forward. Blood sprayed into the air. “You guys are always such pacifists. ‘Don’t kill the murderers.’ Alright. Makes sense.”

Wade froze and the gunfire screeched to a half. Peter’s stomach dropped. Wade blinked down at the cuff that had been slapped around his wrist. “What’s this? A bracelet? How thoughtful.”

“I’ve taken your powers, mutant,” a man said, taking a step back with his hands on his hips. “Soon we’ll have one of every mutant on the planet. Nothing can—”

Gunshots echoed. The man’s face froze in horror, his mouth still open around the sentence he hadn’t finished.

Wade rolled his eyes and twirled his gun around his pointer finger. “Honestly, do you think I’m an idiot? Don’t answer that.” He shook his head and turned to the two remaining captors. “What’s up, fellas? Want to finish this?”

Peter winced as Wade shot a hole through each of their heads. “Wade, I told you not to kill anyone.”

Wade nodded and strolled over to him. “You did. And I ignored you. Now, how do I…?” He gestured to the bindings securing Peter and the large metal cuff around his wrist.

“I’m not sure—Wade!” Peter screamed. His heart stopped as he watched Wade point his pistol at Peter’s hand. “Don’t! My hands won’t grow back!”

“Oh.” Wade frowned down the barrel of the pistol. “Huh. I guess we can’t all be as gifted as me.” He uncocked it and slipped it back into his belt. “I do have this handy little lock picker that I keep around from my burglary days. It comes in handy sometimes.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Burglary days?”

“Don’t worry, it didn’t last long. I quickly realized mercing people was a lot more fun.” He pulled out a tiny spherical device and attached it to Peter’s cuff, which popped open within about five seconds. Then Wade turned his attention to his own cuff.

“I kind of like these bracelets. They’re stylish.”

“You’ll die from iron poisoning if you keep them on long enough.”

“Guess, that’s why they put them on you, then,” Wade pointed out, and wow he was a lot more observant than Peter gave him credit for. “Or maybe they got you mixed up with Spider-Man.” Wade laughed.

Peter laughed nervously. “Sometimes I can’t tell whether you’re serious or not, Wade.”

Wade gasped and slapped a hand over his chest, even as he pulled out a knife and cut away Peter’s bindings. “How dare you. I’m _always_ serious.”

 “Did you at least get Dr. Walsh?”

Wade looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Who?”

Peter groaned. “The lady in the white lab coat. The head scientist. You either killed her or she escaped.”

Wade turned to survey the destruction of the room, his eyes skimming over the dead bodies and the ones still alive, curled up and bleeding on the floor. “Uh… I think she got away.”

Peter huffed. “Perfect. Do you have a phone? I think we should get the police or S.H.I.E.L.D. or _someone_ out here to clean up this mess.”

“Sorry, darlin’. There’s no service out here. We’re in the middle of nowhere. We’ll have to hitch a ride back to town first.”

Peter pushed himself onto trembling legs and waited for Wade to remove the cuff from his own wrist. His body ached from being forced to stay in one spot for so long and his head spun as his senses flooded his body.

Peter glanced up at Wade, who was rubbing his leather-clad wrists. “Hey, Wade.”

Wade looked up at him. “What’s up, baby boy?”

Peter flushed. “I just wanted to say thank you for rescuing me. I have no idea how you even figured out where I was or what happened to me, but… yeah, thank you. I know I don’t always appreciate you as much as I should and I bitch at you a lot, but I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t show up.”

Wade shrugged and rubbed the back of his head. “Well, you know me. I’m the hero type. Plus, you’re the best lay I’ve had in a while. I couldn’t just let your sweet ass get stolen from me.”

Peter giggled, and his face flared up immediately. “That’s sweet, Wade,” he said softly, feeling more than hearing the underlying truth to Wade’s words. That he cared about Peter, that he would miss him if he was gone. Not many people cared about Peter anymore, and the knowledge that Wade was there for him made his cheeks warm and his stomach flutter.

Wade was watching him intently, fascinated by whatever he found on Peter’s face. Peter felt suddenly raw and exposed. He pulled his shoulders up around his ears in embarrassment.

“Come on,” Peter mumbled, making his way toward the door and pushing down the impulse to reach for Wade’s hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

“I can’t believe how easy that was,” Wade said, skipping out of the cabin. “I honestly thought that would be much more difficult.”

Peter laughed. “I’m not surprised. Unlike Spider-Man, most of your skills are learned, not gifted. They couldn’t take much away from you with a single handcuff.

“I guess, but mostly I just charge straight into danger without considering the consequences.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

Wade laughed and wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulder. “That’s something we have in common, then.”

“I would say that we have a lot more in common than you probably think. Oh, stop, I have to pee.”

Wade led them through the forest, past hundreds of pine trees that looked exactly the same, and the landscape began to blur together. Peter knew they probably weren’t walking in circles, but he had no idea if they were headed in the right direction.

Wade strode ahead with long, smooth strides that Peter had to struggle to keep up with. He hoped that meant Wade knew where he was going and not that he was simply an idiot who always carried an air of false confidence.

“You _do_ know where we’re going, right?” Peter asked after a while. He had no idea how long they had been walking, but his feet ached and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He vowed that when he got back to his apartment in New York, he was going to sleep for a full 48 hours.

“Of course. There’s a cargo train that passes through here. It’ll take us back to New York.” He nudged Peter lightly. “You thought we were lost?”

“I was just making sure. You’re not exactly the most reliable leader.”

“Don’t be stupid, I would be a terrible leader. I just know where we’re going because this is the way I came to get here. I heard the news about you getting kidnapped and I figured that I might as well try my hand at heroics. And I did it. I saved the damsel in distress.” He bowed, and took held Peter’s hand up like he was greeting a princess instead of a disheveled mess of a man.

“I’m not a damsel in distress.”

“Dude in distress.”

Peter scowled at him half-heartedly.

They finally stumbled upon a large factory stretching up over the trees, spewing smog into the sky and pumping the rivers full of black, murky waste. The land around it was rotten and pungent, the grass and trees shriveling up. It made Peter want to punch whoever made this place in the throat. Train tracks ran past the building, with a large wooden loading station just outside the electric fence.

Wade checked his Adventure Time watch. “The train should be here in a couple of hours. In the meantime, we could have a heart-to-heart conversation.”

Peter settled down on the ground, his back resting against a tree. He rolled his shoulders and tried his best to release the tension clinging to his muscles. He shivered, exhaustion lacing his body. He rubbed at the red bruises forming around his wrists.

“You look like you’ve been having some kinky sex,” Wade said and winked, his mask now discarded.

Peter ignored the fluttering in his stomach. The last time they had been together was that night at Peter’s apartment, and Peter was still starving for more. It didn’t help that Wade was watching him with those gorgeous blue eyes that were somehow untouched by the destruction to the rest of his skin. He smiled that goofy smile that Peter used to hate, and failed to hide the concern underneath.

“I probably look like shit.”

“Yeah. You do. But, hey, at least you’ll always be the pretty one out of the two of us.”

Wade pulled Peter behind the loading platform when the train arrived, ducked down when a man stumbled down the steps of the train and began shouting orders. Soon, the area was swarming with people carrying boxes and flinching at the commanding voice of the conductor.

“Come on,” Wade whispered, pulling Peter close to him and skirting around the loading area.

Peter’s heart jumped when the conductor turned toward them, but Wade pulled him around to the other side of them train before they were spotted. Wade tugged at the handle on one of the doors, and they watched in dismay as it refused to budge.

“Try another one?” Peter suggested.

But all of the doors on this side of the train were locked. Wade swore under his breath.

“The only doors that are open are the ones that they’re loading and unloading, and we can’t go over there or we’ll be spotted.”

Peter backed up, his hands on his hips and his lips twisted in concentration. There had to be something here that they could use, a way to get onto the train without being noticed.

A movement caught Peter’s eye, a blur of silver. It drew Peter’s attention to the hatch on the top of the train.

“There,” he whispered, pointing. “If we can get to the top of the train, we can use that hatch to get inside.”

“Ooh! Good work, detective.” Wade slapped him hard on the back.

Peter followed Wade to a ladder on the outside of the train and tried to ignore his wobbling legs. Wade reached the top first, disappearing over the edge, a loud _thud_ reverberated through the metal of the train. Peter stiffened at the tingling in the back of his neck and shoved himself up the last few rungs and into the air, desperately hoping Wade didn’t notice.

“Wade?” he hissed, frantically searching for him and finding nothing but the length of the train running out into the horizon. He backed up and spun around, hoping maybe he had missed him, that Wade was still up here somewhere. “Wade, where are you?”

 **He’s not here**. The voice was smooth and sweet and Peter’s stomach clenched with dread. **He left you, just like everyone does.**

“Beck?”

This wasn’t – _couldn’t_ be – Mysterio. Mysterio was in a coma, was basically dead. The last time Peter had seen Quentin Beck, Peter had been in Hell with a bullet through his brain. His skin still crawled from the experience, much too terrifying and real for Peter to be able to convince himself otherwise.

The voice laughed and the scene before him parted like smoke as Mysterio-who-couldn’t-be-Mysterio stepped through, his cape flapping behind him. Peter crouched, preparing for a fight he was almost sure to lose without the help of his web shooters. Mysterio laughed darkly.

"Did you really think someone like you could kill me?"

Black smoke enveloped him, filling his lungs and forcing him for heave. He stumbled, and something shoved him forward. He fell to the ground, crying out as he found himself tumbling into an abyss, straight into the void of the afterlife Mysterio had trapped him in before.

"Mysterio!” Peter shouted, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to remind himself that _this isn’t real, this isn’t real, this isn’t real_ , but it’s hard when his spider sense was tingling and his heart was racing and he had no idea which way was up or down.

He was drowning on land.

 **You think you can defeat me?** Mysterio’s dark laughter rumbled through Peter’s bones. **You think you can save your people, your filthy mutants when you couldn’t even save them?**

Peter crashed to the ground, gasping at the impact. He stumbled to shaky legs as the scene swirled around him, littered with blood and dead bodies with lifeless eyes all turned toward him. He trembled, backing away.

Something crunched beneath his foot and he spun to find the bones of Gwen Stacy lying at his feet, her body bent and broken at her spine. Her eyes snapped open and Peter’s heart dropped to his stomach.

“Peter,” she cried, tears in her eyes. “You didn’t save me.”

Peter gripped his head and curled in on himself. “Stop,” he pleaded softly. He couldn’t do this again, not when he was awake, not when this was the very thing he saw every time he closed his eyes.

**You’re weak. Too weak to save the people you love. Too weak to save those who counted on you.**

The black smoke spun around his like a thunderstorm, electricity crackling in the air. He screamed as the floor beneath him dissolved and he hurtled into the void of space.

Stars twinkled around him and the air in his lungs began to constrict. Ice crawled up his arms and clawed at his face as he floated farther out. Loneliness and failure curled in his chest, tugging on his pulse and making his head ache. Mysterio ripped them out of his throat so easily, and all of the emotions he threw himself into frenzies trying to get rid of engulfed him until it was the only thing he could feel.

**It’s why you’re alone now. No one wants you, Peter. No one loves you.**

His back hit a wall and suddenly he was standing in his pristine white apartment. He clambered to his feet as the walls around him stretched into infinity. He ran, but there was no escaping his own isolation. There was just more of the same white walls and white furniture and white floors. The same windows overlooking a stagnant city and an empty sky. The light was blinding, but it only seemed to get more intense the longer he ran.

He crashed through a set of double doors and felt his body collapse into a shattered heap before a pair of red leather boots. He looked up to find Deadpool offering a hand to him, and Peter took it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet.

“So, _you’re_ Spider-Man?” Wade asked, his eyes glittering as he brushed the hair out of Peter’s face. It was sweaty and stuck to Peter’s forehead, but Wade smiled at him like he couldn’t be more beautiful. Peter’s eyes flicked down to his shoes in shame. “Hey, it’s alright. I’ve got you now. You don’t need to hide anymore.”

Peter trembled and wrapped his arms around Wade’s chest, choking back tears. _Don’t cry_ , he told himself. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Peter whispered. “I was scared. At first, I didn’t trust you, and then you seemed to hate Peter Parker so much that I didn’t think you would want to be friends with me anymore. And then… and then I just didn’t know how to tell you. After everything, I wasn’t sure what you would do.”

Wade laughed hysterically. “What? You think I’m actually _friends_ with you? Oh, that’s funny!”

Peter gasped as his chest was torn open. He stared down at the knife piecing his lungs, and floundered for air, his throat closing up the more he tried. “Wade,” he managed, breathy and distraught. “What—?”

Wade’s face shifted, morphed into something blond and devastatingly beautiful. He smiled at Peter softly and cupped his face in his hands. “You stole this from me,” he breathed into Peter’s face. Peter twisted away from him, but Wade only gripped him tighter. “I was beautiful, I loved myself again, and you were too weak to save me. Why would I ever love you?”

Hot tears dripped down Peter’s cheeks and the knife in his chest twisted, making his heart ache and his lungs scream. “ _Wade_. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He knew this was only an illusion, but the truth of it was heart-wrenchingly real.

Something crashed in the distance and the scene around him flickered. He caught a glimpse of red and black out of the corner of his eye, and before the scene could fully form again, the gas was sliced apart by a silver blade.

Peter gasped, his entire body jolting with the shock of regaining control of his thoughts. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think. He wasn’t even confident in his ability to take one step forward without his knees buckling. In his peripheral he could make out Wade rushing forward with his katanas drawn, but he couldn’t focus on anything other than the way his chest was tightening, squeezing all of the air out of his lungs.

Trees moved past them in a blur and train’s whistle blew, high-pitched and too loud for Peter’s ears. He swayed on his feet, as the world rushed past him.

 Peter watched Wade knock Mysterio to the floor. He rolled away and leaped back to his feet. Peter’s fists clenched at his side as icy resolve hardened in his chest. He launched himself forward, throwing his fists into Mysterio’s face. Wade shouted in surprise and jerked out of the way.

Peter didn’t have his web shooters, but he had years’ worth of fighting experience and enhanced abilities for Mysterio to compete with, and he wasn’t about to let Wade fight alone. The satisfying sound of bones cracking echoed in his ears. Mysterio flew backwards several feet and Wade made a loud whoop of appreciation.

“Nice!” he called, giving Peter a thumbs up.

Mysterio snarled and suddenly he was behind Peter, knocking his legs out from under him. Mysterio stood over him, and although Peter couldn’t see his face, every inch of his body with laced with tension, his breathing heavy.

Wade smashed into Mysterio, sending him flying sideways and toward the edge of the roof. Mysterio flailed, scrabbling for purchase on the smooth metal of the train and latched onto Peter’s leg. They flew sideways and over the edge.

Peter cried out as his arm was yanked back up and his shoulder popped. His muscles burned and his heart was thudding forcefully in his temples, making him dizzy. Black spots danced in his eyes.

“I’ve got you, Peter,” Wade said, grinning as he pulled Peter back up onto the train. “That was a close one. Are you alright?”

Once he was back on his feet, Peter collapsed against Wade’s chest. His left arm wouldn’t cooperate, so he settled for wrapping one arm around Wade’s torso, his fingers curled in the leather of his uniform. “Just take me home,” Peter said, trembling. His entire arm felt like it was on fire. “And will you help me fix my shoulder?”

Wade nodded. “Of course. Don’t worry, I’ll handle this.” He bent down and scooped Peter up into his arms.

“Hey!” Peter shouted, wiggling.

“Relax, baby boy. I’ve got to get you inside the train.”

“I can still walk, you know? You dislocated my arm, not my leg.”

“I dislocated your arm?”

Peter scowled at him. “Yes, when you--”

“Saved you from falling off the train?” He nodded. “Right. I’m so silly. Guess I should have just let you die. At least it would have been painless.”

Peter pursed his lips and stayed silent. Deadpool chuckled at him and a spark of indignation flared in his chest.

“What?”

Wade giggled and leaned forward to touch their noses together. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

Peter pouted.

Wade shifted Peter in his arms and then stepped closer to the edge of the train. Peter’s fingers dug into Deadpool’s leather uniform and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to show how his stomach was churning.

“Afraid of heights, Peter?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Peter gritted out. He was just more comfortable when he was the one swinging from a moving object, when he knew the next move he was about to make. He hated feeling like he had no control over the situation.

“Hold on tight,” Wade said and his arms tightened around Peter. His breath caught in his throat as Wade dropped down the hatch that was open on the top of the train. Wade only barely stumbled under Peter's weight when they landed.

“That wasn’t so bad, right?”

Peter wiggled out of Wade’s grasp and stumbled to catch his footing. He started to smooth out his torn and filthy button-down but then stop when he realized there was no point. “Thanks, Wade,” Peter mumbled. “Just, maybe tell me the plan next time.”

Wade gasped and slapped his hands against his cheeks. “Petey, you make me blush. There’s going to be a next time? Most people don’t give me another date once they see the skin _and_ the destructive habits.”

Peter rolled his eyes, but smiled despite himself. “Shut up, Wade. And help me fix my shoulder.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys kind of caught onto the... uh... mood of Dr. Walsh's bigotry. If the conversation doesn't sound eerily familiar to you, then I either failed or you're very lucky lol.
> 
> This chapter was actually written before the Far From Home trailer even came out and I was originally going to actually use Quentin Beck, and then I didn't want to do that because I didn't want to feel like I was ripping off the movie, but then I realized that using Francis Klum (who later took over Mysterio's persona) was extra confusing and that this is fanfiction and I am supposed to rip off the movies. So, sorry for that one commenter who is probably hella confused right now. And my apologies to anyone who already read this chapter and will now wonder what happened to Klum. It shouldn't change much other than the name being used, though.
> 
> Thank you so much for your patience.


	5. Maybe Don't Do That

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me too long to write this, but I read "Dirty Laundry" by Jmeelee and suddenly felt inadequate. This chapter still isn't exactly what I want, and I'll probably go back and revise this entire work eventually (mostly because I keep changing things lol), but here is the chapter for now.

“Thanks.” Peter rolled his shoulder and winced. “It still hurts, though.”

Wade laughed. He had discarded his mask when he started working on Peter’s arm. He didn’t care enough about hiding his face to force himself to suffocate in the thick leather costume. He should really switch to something more practical, like Spidey’s spandex, but what could he say? He liked to fight in style. And by style, he meant looking like he’d just walked out of a hard BDSM porno.

Peter pursed his lips and blinked up at Wade like he expected something, and Wade let out a small huff of amusement before leaning over to pick Peter’s button-up off the floor. Wade had torn it off without stopping to unbutton it when he’d popped Peter’s shoulder back into place, and yeah, he knew Peter was ripped, but _goddamn_. He wanted to trail his tongue over those muscles until Peter couldn’t feel anything but the mounting desire for more.

Peter didn’t seem to care much about the shirt, which had already been ripped into ribbons clinging desperately to his shoulders like a bad Halloween costume, and the dirt and blood didn’t do anything to make it look better. Or maybe he was just too exhausted to argue.

Wade shifted closer to Peter and wrapped his fingers delicately around his forearm. “I’m going to use your shirt as a sling, okay?”

Peter nodded and held his arm out so Wade could work.

“You’re pretty good at first aid, huh?”

Wade grinned. “Well, I was a mercenary before I was the Merc with a Mouth. A real mercenary. A human one. I had to learn how to fix myself if something went wrong because I couldn’t go to the hospitals. Hospitals ask so many questions.”

And I had no one to look out for me, Wade didn’t say, but something heavy tugged at his heart. He had almost bled to death on the floor of his apartment more times than he could count, and after many hours spent sewing his skin back together and learning how to put his broken parts into slings, he finally got the hang of it. Fortunately, he learned how to dodge a bullet and spot a knife behind someone’s back pretty quickly.

“There,” Wade said, leaning back to admire his work. “All done. You’re a fighter, Petey Boy. I know that must have hurt.”

Peter shrugged. “I’m sure yours hurt worse.”

“Yeah, but I’m used to it.”

Peter fell silent, his eyes cast to the ground and his free hand picking at the fabric of his sling.

He was so fragile, unlike Wade with his immortality and bubbling, mutated skin that some days he wanted to peel off piece by piece until he only a silhouette remained. And so pretty, but that was no revelation. Peter’s beauty had taunted him since before Wade they had even met, since Wade had hated those gorgeous brown eyes and that white smile, and the impossible chivalry that appeared on his television screen. He had just seemed too good to be true.

Of course, he might just be a glitch. Maybe the Voices were just playing mind games with him again. But Wade had hallucinated worse things.

“Are you alright?” Peter asked finally, searching Wade’s eyes like he might find the truth written there. “I haven’t seen you in a while, so….”

Wade nudged him. “Aw. Did you miss me?”

Peter shrugged. “Yeah, a little.”

That really was not the response Wade expected. It made his stomach flip and Wade wondered what part of himself Peter missed. The company, the sex, the laughter. Maybe all three. Hopefully all three.

_He’s a temporary fix._

**But he’s so perfect, like Obama.**

“Well, I missed you more. Not that it’s a competition, but if it was, I’d win.”

Peter laughed. “That’s a surprise. You never win anything.”

“I win at Life. Also Uno. I would absolutely deck you in Uno. Get it. Deck?”

“Yes, Wade. Unfortunately, I got your horrible pun the first time.”

“I also think I’m better at kissing.”

Peter narrowed his eyes at him and hummed like he didn’t quite believe the bullshit coming out of Wade’s fantastic mouth. But he grinned mischievously, so Wade doubted he was oblivious to what Wade wanted.

“If you really want to kiss me, all you have to do is ask,” Peter said teasingly, looking up at Wade through his thick brown eyelashes that looked like they had never outgrown their baby softness.

“Well, if you insist.”

Peter pressed his lips against Wade’s, whose stomach flipped at the familiar softness. It had been too long since they’d done this, and he missed the warmth of Peter in his arm. He was sweet and perfect and more innocent than Wade could ever hope to imagine. A part of him recoiled, suddenly all too aware of the differences in their bodies and history. He desperately wanted to return Peter’s patient touches, but his body tensed and thoughts of _I’m not good enough_ forced themselves into his head.

Peter hummed against Wade’s lips and reached up to trail his finger’s over Wade’s jaw. Wade moaned softly and opened his mouth to invite Peter’s tongue inside. Peter squeezed his eyes shut and pressed harder, sending electricity arcing down Wade’s spine.

“Wade,” Peter panted. “I want you.”

“Everyone wants me, baby boy.”

“I want you to touch me.”

Wade pulled away, laughing when Peter whimpered and reached for him. “As tempting as that may be, your arm is—”

“My arm is fine. But… but we don’t have to… if you don’t want to.”

“Aw, you know I always want you.” The words came out so much softer than Wade meant them to. He pressed his forehead to Peter’s, unable to push down the emotions swelling in his chest.

“You always hesitate so much with me,” Peter said, forcing amusement into his voice, but Wade knew enough about self-deprecating humor that he could hear the underlying grief.

Wade swallowed. “Well, I don’t want to end up in a billion-dollar lawsuit because I pulled your hair too hard, princess.” Peter pressed his lips into a thin line. “And, believe me, I really want to fuck you so hard you’re a mess on the floor, but I don’t trust my own strength. Might tear you apart.”

Peter shivered. “Oh?” His voice was hoarse in a way that made heat flood the pit of Wade’s stomach. How had Wade ever hated Peter, when he looked this pretty with a sunset on his cheeks?

“Yeah.”

Peter’s hazy eyes shot toward Wade’s lips. “Maybe I want you to.”

Peter let out a startled squeal as Wade lunged forward, capturing his bottom lip between his teeth and pulling. Peter’s lips curved into a smile and he wrapped his free arm around Wade’s neck, pulling him as close as he could get.

Wade sighed into Peter’s mouth, reveling in the divinity of kissing an ethereal being and swallowed the soft moans that vibrated in his throat. Peter let his eyes fall shut and the tension slid out of his shoulders, and huh, apparently Wade’s body liked that, too.

“Peter,” Wade gasped, and Peter shivered against his lips. He reached up to cup Peter’s face, pulling him closer. Peter’s fingers were feather-light over Wade’s own, and the hand Wade had at the back of Peter’s neck tightened. Peter whined.

Peter pulled Wade’s hand away from his face and his disappointment didn’t have to settle in before shock washed over him. He watched in awe as Peter pressed a delicate kiss to Wade’s fingertips, like a prince in a fairytale. Then he steered Wade’s hand lower, down to the cock that was hardening rapidly in Peter’s jeans.

Wade groaned. “Damn,” he gasped. “Fuck, you’re hard.”

He nodded feverishly and rocked his hips against Wade’s hand. “You gonna do something about it?”

Wade's lips curled into a devilish smile. He swiped a tongue over his lips, brushing Peter’s in the process, and felt satisfaction coil in his bones when Peter shivered. “You’re such a sweetheart, Peter.” He leaned forward and sighed against Peter’s ear. “I’m going to destroy you.”

Peter’s hips jerked as he sucked in a needy breath. “ _Please_ ,” he gasped. “ _Wade._ ”

Hearing Peter say his name like that made Wade’s dick leak and he wondered distantly if Peter could make him come in his pants without even touching him. Probably.

Wade growled against his ear as he fumbled with the button on Peter’s jeans. Peter cried out when Wade finally wrapped his hand around his cock, giving it a quick stroke before pulling Peter into his lap.

“Ow,” Peter murmured halfheartedly, shifting his bandaged arm. But then Wade stroked him, twisting his wrist at the head, and all of Peter’s complaints dissolved into a puddle of high-pitched squeaks and whimpers.

Peter gasped. “You’re hand….”

“I know,” Wade murmured into his neck. “It’s gross.”

Peter groaned and shook his head. His hips undulated into Wade’s fist with desperate, jerky movements, restrained solely by the sling around his arm. His skin burned a fierce pink from his cheeks to his aching dick. “No. It feels rough. Feels good.”

Wade whimpered and buried his head in Peter’s shoulder, his hips rolling against Peter’s. Peter gasped. Wade moved clumsily, trying to find a rhythm for the first time since they started sleeping together. Something swelled beneath his ribcage, but he pressed it down in favor of enjoying this.

We’ll mess him up. Turn him into bloody ribbons and wonder what went wrong.

Wade gritted his teeth.

Peter’s nails dug into Wade’s back as he scrabbled for something to hold onto. He let out little squeaky gasps that went straight to Wade’s cock, still sheathed inside his suit, and Wade forced himself to focus on that rather than his intrusive thoughts.

Then Peter reached for Wade’s dick.

Wade froze. Peter stiffened and pulled back, looking up at Wade like a scolded dog.

“Sorry—”

“It’s fine. I….” He swallowed. “Let me take off my suit.”

Peter sat back and watched with hunger burning in his eyes as Wade pulled off his suit. It wasn’t much of a show, with the leather clinging to pieces of Wade’s peeling skin, but Wade winked at him anyway, because if Peter was going to look at him like that, Wade might as well try to act like he was sexy

And self-consciousness was not sexy.

They admired each other’s disheveled looks for a single moment before Peter shoved Wade backward and crawled on top of him like the superb little pornstar he was. Wade landed on his back, breathless and bewildered, but ravenous nevertheless.

Peter pressed starving kisses to Wade’s lips and sucked the breath from his lungs. Wade groaned. His hands gripped Peter’s waist so tightly that Wade knew it would leave bruises. Peter bit down hard on Wade’s lip and followed the taste of iron into his mouth.

Mine, Wade thought darkly, despite knowing he had no right to think that.

Peter pulled back, stretched up above him like a god, and damn Wade would trade Thor for Peter any day, would get down on his knees and worship Peter’s thighs, whisper prayers into his skin and beg for mercy.

Peter’s glossy eyes burned into Wade’s exposed skin, drinking in the sight of Wade beneath him. The blood smeared on his lips matched the color in his cheeks and his entire body coiled with desire. Yeah, that image was definitely going in the section of Wade’s brain labeled “NSFW: Don’t like, don’t read.”

Then Peter smirked and reached for their dicks. His hand didn’t wrap entirely around both of them, not like Wade’s large hands, which dug into Peter’s waist so hard the skin tore. Wade saw Peter’s eye twitch with irritation, but it was only for an instant before he pushed it down and began to stroke them.

Wade let out a desperate mewl from the back of his throat and threw his head back. Peter licked his lips and dragged his hand over their cocks, rolling his hips in rhythm with it. Wade arched up into his hand and wrapped his legs around Peter’s back.

Wade fell pliant beneath Peter’s touch. He had never expected Peter would want to dominate him like this, or that Wade would trust him enough to let him. It had been so long since he’d left someone inside him, and now, with Peter rolling his hips like he was rocking into him, Wade felt devastatingly empty. He pushed his hips into Peter’s hand and whined when Peter’s grip tightened.

Their rhythm grew desperate as they hurtled toward climax. Wade squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away, his mouth fell open into the shape of an “O.” Not for the first time, Wade wished he still had his beautiful blond hair for Peter to pull, to expose his throat. Wade wanted to feel Peter’s teeth around his throat.

“I’m close,” Wade gasped.

“Me, too.”

It only took a few more thrusts and burning twists of Peter’s wrist for Wade to spill over his stomach, his body jerking as he cried out. Peter’s breath caught in his throat and Wade’s eyes fluttered open just in time to watch Peter cum, too, his face twisted in ecstasy.

 

 

 

Wade could tell they were getting close when his cellphone rang, blaring “X Gon Give It To Ya” through the small, cramped train car. It echoed in Wade’s ears and Peter groaned, rolling over and burying his face in his elbow. Telemarketer lit up on the screen.

Wade declined the call and laid back down beside Peter, sprawled lazily across the cool metal floor, bare-chested and cradling his injured arm. His face twisted in pain and his pale skin beaded with sweat. Wade thought he might be regretting the decision to have sex with his arm in a sling, but he also seemed relaxed and content in a way Wade hadn’t seen him in a while, so maybe it was a worthwhile sacrifice.

“I got service.”

Peter opened his eyes and regarded Wade with cloudy eyes for a moment before the words seemed to register. “Oh!” He sat up and turned toward Wade with an outstretched palm and wiggling fingers. “I’ll call Anna Maria.”

Wade handed Peter the phone and waited as Peter dialed the number, which surprised Wade’s dumbass brain. Wade barely remembered his own number some days, but he also had trouble remembering not to murder people, so he probably wasn’t the best judge of normalcy.

“Yeah, the train station of the… east side of town?” Peter glanced at Wade, who mouthed _near the Cockpit Gay Bar._

Peter tried and failed to hold back his giggles and Wade’s face broke out into a grin as warmth exploded in his chest. “Wade says it—pfft—near the ‘Cockpit Gay Bar.’ Yeah. Thank you. I’ll see you there. Oh, and bring me a clean shirt, please. Doesn’t matter what it looks like, just something warm.”

Peter handed the phone back to Wade. “Is she freaking out?”

“A little, but she’ll be fine. I think she’s used to me doing stupid shit.” He smiled and shook his head. “I don’t know where I would be without Anna Maria. She’s been the only person who’s been there for me through everything, and nothing really seems to shake her.”

“She sounds great.”

“Yeah,” Peter said softly, his smile growing distant with memories. Something sweet, maybe. A summer long ago, with long walks along the beach and a Hallmark movie moment.

“Is there… uh… feelings there?” Wade’s heart tightened at that thought, despite knowing full well that he had no right to expect anything from Peter, least of all a relationship.

“What?” Peter laughed. “No, no. No. She’s just a good friend. And she used to love me, I think, but it wasn’t really me. I was dead. Someone stole my body and—”

“Woah, woah. What? I thought I was supposed to be the crazy one.”

“Nevermind. It’s a really long story, anyway, and I shouldn’t really be talking about it.”

“Did the Voices tell you that?”

Peter rolled his eyes and laid back down beside Wade. He rolled over onto his side and held Wade’s face in his hands, and Wade melted into him. Peter smiled softly and trailed his fingertips over Wade’s frayed skin. Someone reached out and dug their nails into Wade’s heart.

“Idiot,” Peter breathed against Wade’s lips, sending shivers down his spine.

He said it the way he said _please_ , breathy and fond with layers of meaning bleeding into each other. Wade’s tongue turned to lead in his mouth.

They dozed in the light streaming in through the hatch at the top of the train and Peter curled into Wade’s chest, seeking warmth. Wade wished he had something to give Peter, a shirt or a blanket that would protect him from the wind and the chilly autumn air, but all he had was his torn, blood-stained suit, and although it was tempting to strip bare in front of Peter, he figured Peter wouldn’t appreciate that gesture.

The train let out a low groan as it slowed to a stop, sending Wade tumbling into Peter.

“Are we here?” Peter rasped, blinking blearily up at him. His voice sounded divine and he yawned, stretching like a cat in the golden rays of the evening sun. He looked so cute that Wade had the startling desire to strangle the life from him, the way he did when a puppy nuzzled into his palm, not caring if the rest of the world feared him.

“Yep. Get up, lazy ass. Don’t you want to see your girlfriend?”

“What are you, five? Anna Maria is not—”

“Yeah. Sort of like how I’m not your favorite superhero.”

Peter snorted. “You think you’re my favorite superhero?”

Wade gasped, slapping a hand over his mouth. “I’m not? Peter… is there someone else?”

“Yeah. Spider-Man.”

Wade laughed. “Of course, of course. I should have guessed. But Spider-Man is my favorite superhero, too, so I can’t even complain.”

They both stood, Wade offering his hand to help pull Peter to his feet.

“How are we going to get out of here?” Peter asked, frowning up at the hatch. He shifted impatiently and nibbled at his bottom lip, which really should not be that distracting.

But then train door slid open, revealing a very bemused train worker. Wade pulled his mask back over his face and shot finger guns at him, accompanied by pewing sounds.

“Hey, handsome,” he said, grinning. “You want to blow my train whistle?”

The worker blinked at them in surprise. “Wha—?”

“Excellent service, by the way. I’ll rate you 7/10 on Yelp. Nothing too fancy, but quick service and easy transportation. Not attentive at all, though. Like, seriously, where were my airplane peanuts and five-dollar cup of Sprite?” Wade pulled a twenty-dollar bill out of his pocket and pressed it into the map’s hand. “But your wife something special.”

He hopped off the train.

“I’m not married.”

Peter followed after him, hiding his face behind his hands and curling in on himself. Goosebumps crawled deliciously up his bare skin and Wade very much wanted to run his tongue over every inch of his body.

Next time.

Peter chuckled nervously as he strode to catch up. “Wow. You manage to bewilder every person you meet. Seriously. You deserve some sort of reward.”

“Oh, yeah! Where is my Oscar?”

They found Anna Maria waiting for them at the edge of the platform, her eyes searching anxiously with her arms crossed over her chest. When her eyes caught on Peter, she raced forward, throwing her arms around his neck.

He took a steadying stead backward before hugging her as tightly as he could with one arm.

“I missed you, too,” he said softly.

She stepped away from him and punched him hard in the arm.

“Ow! Hey!”

“That’s what you get for being kidnapped by a bunch of psychos.”

“Yeah. What a warm welcome home. I feel so loved.” He rubbed his arm, but Wade suspected it didn’t actually hurt. Anna Maria ignored him in favor of tossing a shirt at his bare chest. “Thanks,” he said. He struggled with pulling it on over his head for a moment before Wade took pity on him and helped.

“There. Now all that delicious skin is tucked away where pervs can’t see it,” Wade said, his hands on his hips and head held high.

_What? Like us?_

“What?” Peter asked. “Like you?”

Wade grinned.

Peter’s mouth stretched wide in a yawn. “Take me home, please. I’m going to sleep for forty-eight hours.” He started toward the car on trembling legs.

“How about no,” Wade said, holding Peter back with an arm around his chest. “You need to go to the hospital.”

_We used to want him dead. Now we’d do anything to keep him alive._

And wow, Wade thought, the voices were right. He wasn’t quite sure when it happened, – **probably a few hours after sucking his dick** – but it was true. He’d do anything to make sure he never had to see Peter with a bullet through his head again.

Yeah. That was probably the hormones talking, pumping hot and thick through his Canadian veins. Don’t have sex before marriage, kids.

“Yeah,” Anna Maria said, crossing her arms over her chest. “You can sleep at the hospital.”

“Guys, I’m fine. Wade fixed my arm and all I need is a good, long nap.”

“He has iron poisoning,” Wade explained to Anna Maria, belatedly realizing that having sex probably made it worse. “I don’t really know what that means, but I always buy my daughter the iron-free vitamins because iron is supposed to be bad for you.”

“ _Iron poisoning_?” Her voice raised an octave. “That’s… that’s really bad, Peter. We need to get you to the hospital. Like, right now.”

“They’ll ask questions,” Peter said, his eyes drooping. “The press’ll have a field day.”

“The entire country already knows you went missing,” Wade told him. “There was live coverage of the explosion.” Wade remembered the piercing horror when he discovered when the stoic reporter announced the explosion and the disappearance of Peter Parker. He and Weasel tracked down one of the mutants that stopped frequenting Sister Margaret’s several months ago and followed the blood entrails from there.

Peter opened his mouth to argue, but then his jaw snapped shut. He spun around and curled over, vomiting into the grass. He coughed and wiped chunks of blood and vomit off his lips. Yeah, Wade would really need proof that Peter brushed his nasty teeth before he kissed him again.

“Yeah,” Peter rasped. “Hospital.”

Anna Maria placed a firm hand on his back and rubbed soothing circles into it. “And you need to call Mr. Stark. He’s called to ask about you seven times since you went missing.”

Wade whistled appreciatively. “Sounds like you’ve got a sugar daddy.”

Peter scoffed. “I’m my own sugar daddy.”

Wade laughed and wrapped his arm around Peter's waist.

He helped Anna Maria get Peter into the car, settling Peter down into the seat as gently as he could with Peter as surprisingly heavy as he was. Anna Maria brushed a few strands of hair off Peter’s glistening forehead before turning toward Wade.

“Thank you for getting him back here safely.”

Wade shrugged. “Of course. That’s what heroes do.” He squeezed Peter’s shoulder. “I guess I’ll see you later, darlin’.” He didn’t think anyone really wanted him to stick around, and the voices weren’t really psyched about going to a hospital with all the artificial purities and bleached everything, like a crime scene. Plus, the longer he looked at Peter’s paling face, the more he wanted to drive a stake through the heart of every single one of the demons that had done this to him. No one got to hurt Peter. Not even Wade. Not anymore.

“You’re not coming?” Peter asked, his voice breaking. His eyes shone, vulnerable and broken, and the swelling beneath Wade’s ribcage burst.

“Afraid not, baby. I’m going to go find the guys who did this to you.”

“Ugh. Wade. Don’t do that. I tried doing that and look what happened.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Wade—”

“Don’t harass the nurses too much, you fucking incubus.” He closed the door and tried not to let the sight of Peter’s glassy eyes deter him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My other work in this series, "Keeping It Casual," is basically this chapter but from Peter's point of view. It's older, though, so it's not exactly the same.


	6. "Ice Cream?" More Like Boner Juice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long and that it's so short. I recently moved into my dorm room and I'm starting my Freshman year of college this coming Tuesday, so... a lot has been happening (moving away from home is scary). This is a pretty self-indulgent chapter that was meant to be longer than it ended up being. I'm going to have to change the number of chapters that are going to end up being in this work, but oh well.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

“You look like shit.”

Wade’s head snapped up, expecting a man – or woman, since Wade knew from experience that women are more inclined to rip your beating heart out with their freshly manicured nails – clad in black, a gun pointed at Wade’s head against the backdrop of the setting sun. Instead, he found Spider-Man, drenched in blinding reds and blues, scrutinizing him with narrowed eyes and a displeased twist in his mask. Wow, Wade was seriously off his game this week. He wouldn’t have even noticed Spidey if it weren’t for his snide comment.

“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Sticky Hands McGee,” Wade said, laughing as he attempted to play off the blood flooding his boots. Maybe if he laughed loud enough, Peter wouldn’t notice the gaping hole in his chest. “Just be glad I wear red, otherwise I’d looking like a fucking Jackson Pollock painting, and not the sexy kind, either.” He fingered one of his bullet holes. “By the way, all of this blood is mine. I’ve been a good boy.”

Spider-Man’s mask twisted. “When I said ‘don’t kill people,’ I didn’t mean I wanted you to get hurt instead.”

Wade shrugged limply. “Probably deserved it.” With a little grit, he managed to push himself to his feet and stride over to Spider-Man, tracking blood across the concrete roof. “Where were you, anyway? Boss went missing and you dropped off the face of the planet.”

“I _tried_ to help,” Spider-Man grumbled, a defensive edge in his voice. “But I don’t torture information out of people like you do.” His shoulders slumped and he looked up at Wade like he’d just shot his puppy. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that. I do appreciate you saving Peter. It’s—he doesn’t have a lot of people looking out for him, so it’s cool that he can count on you when he needs you.”

Wade shrugged again. “I’m a hero now. Heroes save people. Plus, if it’ll get me special friend points with you, I’m happy to do it.”

Spider-Man stared at him through the milky white eyes of his mask, unnerving Wade with the long, silent calculations that he knew were rolling through that genius brain. Eventually, he sighed and stepped off the ledge, back onto the crumbling, grease-stained roof of the building.

“Hey, do you… want to get ice cream?”

Wade’s eyes almost popped out of his head. “ _What_?” Ice cream? Just the two of them? He wondered if someone had shot him through the skull because this had to be some sort of hallucination, right?

“You know, like sweet frozen milk, usually on some sort of cone?” Oh, Wade loved that smartass mouth of his.

Wade grinned. “Is this like a date…?”

“No, no. _No_. Not a date. Just a… celebration? And a reward, I guess. Ice cream’s on me.”

“Now it definitely sounds like a date.”

“Not a date.”

“Well, where are you taking me?” Wade asked, tugging Spidey forward with a hand around his waist. “Maybe I can even have a few licks of _your_ ice cream cone—”

Spider-Man shoved a hand into his face. “Definitely not.” But Wade could hear the smile in his voice.

They swung down to Sundae Funday, Wade’s legs locked around Spider-Man’s torso. Wade had never heard of it, – which isn’t unusual because Wade prefers to stay on the section of town with the rats and the rotting buildings and the people who need a bullet between their eyes – but Peter speaks with such enthusiasm that Wade feels like he’s been there before.

“I know the owner from when I first became Spider-Man,” Peter shouted as they swung through the air. “I saved him from a couple of mutant wolves that escaped from an unregulated facility in the slums, and he gave me a free cone. It was the best ice cream that I’d ever had, so I’d stop by there from time to time to get more. He’d always give it to me for free, but after—after I started working for Mr. Parker, I insisted that I pay for it, even when the guy offers. But I still go there all the time. It’s nice to know that people appreciate my work, you know? Especially when so much of the media paints me as a dangerous vigilante, kicked out of the Avengers.”

Wade clenched his jaw and tried not to say anything about how The Daily Bugle can suck his hairy balls.

There were silent, heavy stares pressing on Wade’s chest as they ordered the ice cream, and Wade took a moment to wonder how Spidey had the courage to prance around in his suit beneath the searing gaze of both his fans and his critics. Then he took a long, pensive lick of his ice cream cone and all his worries melted away.

“Holy shit!”

Spider-Man laughed. A woman tugged her young child in the opposite direction.

“Why have I never heard of this place before? It’s—are these _real_ pieces of raspberries?” It was soft serve, just the way Wade liked it, with hot fudge that was _actually_ hot swirled on top, strawberries stuffed into the ruffles.

They settled down on a bench to eat, right in the middle of downtown New York, and if Spider-Man cared around the people pointing and taking pictures, he didn’t show it. Wade tried not to let the skeptical looks shot his way bother him.

“Best ice cream in all of New York,” Spider-Man told him.

“I always believed all ice cream is beautiful. But yeah, I think this is some of the best.”

“He makes it himself. Cuts up the fruits and mixes the sugar and cream and everything. He showed me one time, and I can tell you that everything in this is locally sourced and organic. Some of the ice cream is even vegan.”

“He sounds hot.” Spider-Man shot him a look. “Or should I say… _cold_?”

Spidey failed to contain his laughter. “Idiot,” he said, nudging Wade lightly and a bundle of nerves danced in Wade’s stomach. “That wasn’t even a good pun.”

“Yeah? And yours are so much better.”

“Uh, yeah. They are. Because mine are science puns, and science puns are obviously superior.”

“Science puns? Please. I’ve heard you say shit like ‘I see your point’ while a man shoved a sword in your face.”

Spider-Man smiled, his mask pulled up to reveal his lips, and Wade bit down the desire to press him against the bench and savor the taste of ice cream in his mouth. Wade had no idea what he even looked like, and he realized that he didn’t care. He could look like the visual equivalent of toothpaste and orange juice, and Wade would still want to kiss him.

“Thanks for the date,” Wade said, sounding more smitten than he meant to. He stood and brushed the dust off his ass. “It was nice.”

Spider-Man pulled his mask back over his lips. Wade already missed the sight of them, grinning and smiling and licking the melting ice cream around the base of the cone is a way that should be illegal. “Not a date. But, yeah. I enjoyed it, too.”

“But, before you leave, I wanted to ask a favor.”

Spider-Man cocked his head like a sexy, spandex-clad puppy. “Okay….”

Wade held his palms up. “Nothing sexual, I promise. Unless you want to.”

Spider-Man crossed his arms over his chest in his signature _I’m done with the bullshit, Wade_ look. Wade sighed and shook his head as though he cared. “Your loss, man.” His fingers popped open one of the pouches around his waist and pulled out a small metal sphere he stole from the super badass science people he chased down earlier that morning. Hence, the gaping chest wound and multitude of bullet holes. It took a little bit of digging and a couple of weeks to find them again, but he finally managed to trace the bad guys back to their super-secret Bat Cave.

That manipulative bitch Mysterio had been there, too, spewing green smoke and looking like he had just walked off the set of Star Trek: William Shatner Overacts Everything. Wade had no idea what Mysterio had done to Peter, but he’d been worn out and trembling on the train. The only time Wade allowed himself to visit Peter after that, he seemed jumpy and withdrawn, preferring to bury himself in his work than to listen to Wade rant about whatever nonsense entered his brain.

And when Wade asked what Mysterio had shown him, Peter shut down altogether, his eyes swimming with tears, and Wade swore he was going to shove a metal rod so far up Mysterio’s ass, it scrambled his insides. When he saw Mysterio at the lab, he’d almost stopped to wrap his hands around Mysterio’s crystal ball until it shattered.

“What is this?” Spider-Man asked, holding up cupped hands so Wade could drop a small metal syringe into it. He looked up at Wade questioningly.

“Well, I call it…,” he waggled his fingers and did his best impression of Batman, “the _Needle of Death_. But I’m sure there’s a more scientific word for it. Not exactly sure what they’re planning on doing with it, but I can guess that it’s not good.

Spider-Man’s first curled around it, his first trembling. “I’ll get this back to Peter’s lab. We’ll run some tests.”

“Can I go?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Wade asked, his heart sinking. “I can help. Please let me help.”

Spider-Man turned his furious eyes on him. “No. You can’t help. Thank you for getting this for me, but you need to stay on the ground. Keep a lookout. I’ll tell you about the details later.”

Wade groaned and watched in dismay as Spider-Man swung off through the city.

 

Wade tried not to drip blood across his blood as he peeled off his suit and replaced it with a white shirt and his Captain America sweatpants. He pressed his lips together, inspecting the holes in his suit. He needed to fix the holes and use his Ultra Heavy Duty Stain Remover to get the bloodstains out because Wade learned long ago that rotting blood does not give him the Refreshing vibe he likes to go for. But he set it aside for now and instead plopped down in front of the TV for a good binge-wank-snooze session. It was only ten in the morning when he arrived home, but he had been awake all night long and even immortal beings need their sleep.

He was about halfway through the snooze part of his day when Ellie stepped off the bus and settled down at the kitchen table to start on her homework.

“Such a good girl,” Wade said, rubbing her head and smiling when she giggled and swatted at him. “Full of all those smarticle particles. I wish I had a brain like yours.”

She giggled, bubbly and warm and Wade wondered how he had ever survived without her in his life. “It’s just addition, Daddy. See? Seventy-four plus thirteen equals…,” she twirled her pencil in the air pensively for a moment before she scribbled down the answer on the page. “Eighty-seven.”

“Oh, I was way off. I thought the answer was ‘blue.’” He scratched the back of his head in fake embarrassment. “Can’t keep up with you geniuses.”

“I’m not a genius.” She laughed and pointed at the TV. “Mr. Parker and Mr. Stark are geniuses.”

Wade turned to find Peter in front of a podium, Tony Stark a steady presence at his side. They were addressing the string of murders, describing with perfect political speak what the Avenger’s plans are to stop them.

“Neither of you are mutants,” one woman said, clutching a notepad in one hand. “Do you really think it’s a good idea to allow these…, well, dangerous people to be on the loose. We’ve had trouble with mutants before. What if they attack again?”

Peter gritted his teeth, a familiar flash of fury in his eyes and Wade stiffened, worried he was going to say something very rude to the entire world. But Tony nudged him out of the way, squeezing himself between Peter and his white-knuckled grip on the podium.

“What’s your name, ma’am?”

The woman recoiled. “My name is Emily Cuesta.”

“Well, Ms. Cuesta, what stops you from going around murdering people is the same thing that keeps mutants from doing the same. If they murder, they’re thrown in prison. If they commit fraud or sell stimulating drugs or commit any other number of criminal acts, they suffer the same consequences as the rest of us, so I don’t get what you’re so confused about. Plus,” he continued, holding his palm up as if to ask what kind of a stupid ass question—“many of them are heroes, heroes who have saved this city, and your ass, many more times than you will probably ever realize. How many people have you saved, Ms. Cuesta?”

A wave of silence washed over the crowd and Tony looked down at them with a raised chin. The woman clenched her jaw.

Peter leaned forward into the microphone, forcing Tony to take a step back. “That’s all for today.” The silence broke and a mass of reporters surged forward, shouting, desperate to be heard. “No more questions for today. Thank you all for coming out.”

Then the screen changed back to the newscaster and Wade returned his attention to his daughter.

She murmured something Wade didn’t hear, staring blankly down at her homework. “Some of the kids at school think they should all be killed.”

Wade’s vision burned white-hot and he squeezed Ellie’s hand. “Ellie. Eleanor, look at me.” She turned watery eyes on him. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

“They’ve done it before. I almost died.” Her bottom lip trembled and Wade’s heart shattered into a million pieces. “I… I’m scared.”

He held her arms gently in his hands. “I know, but it’s going to be okay. After all,” he grinned and pointed to himself, “I’m your Daddy. And I’m not going to let anyone or anything hurt you ever again. Except for maybe your homework, but the most that will do is hurt your pride… or give you a headache.”

She wiped tears off her teeth and sniffled. “Yeah.”

Wade spent the rest of the evening doing normal people things. Dishes, chores, helping his daughter with homework. They ran up to Target for ice cream and soda and Ellie poured half a bottle of chocolate fudge and a shit ton of sprinkles into her ice cream float, which honestly looked delicious because Wade’s brain stopped developing at the age of six.

He settled for plain orange cream soda instead, having already had his fill of ice cream. They settled into the couch, a blanket the size of a car draped over their shoulders, and Wade allowed Ellie to pick out a movie – Moana, which they had watched about thirty times and which Ellie never got tired of because _she looks like me_. Wade didn’t tell her that Moana was Polynesian, not mixed, because it didn’t matter to her anyway.

She put on her Moana outfit and made Wade mute the movie so he could voice over all the songs. He danced and grabbed for her and his heart swelled when she squealed, scrambling away from his grasping fingers.

“I love you,” she murmured as he tucked her into bed. She yawned and rubbed her eyes in a catlike stretch.

“I love you, too, sweetie,” he whispered, squeezing her tiny hand in his own. “And you don’t need to be afraid of anything. If a bad guy so much as looks your way, I’ll shove him back into his mommy’s stomach.”

She wrinkled her nose and giggled. “Ew.”

“Goodnight.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Dream about something nice, like clowns.”

“I hate clowns!”

“That’s right, I forgot. Sharks, then.”

She shook her head.

“The dentist?”

She laughed and pushed him away. “You’ll give me nightmares! I want to dream about Mommy.”

Wade’s heart clenched and his eyes softened. “Alright. You dream about Mommy and I’ll dream about Captain America.”

“I thought you were in love with Spider-Man.”

“Oh, I am. But have you _seen_ Captain America?” He whistled appreciatively. “He’s got butt for days.”

“You’re so weird,” she giggled. “Go to sleep.”

“Okay, okay. I’m leaving.” He stood up and turned off the light. “Can’t wait to see those gorgeous blue eyes in my dreams.”

“Can’t wait until you let me sleep.” Ouch. Where did she learn all that sass from?

**Probably from us.**

Probably. And Wade couldn’t have been prouder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Ellie. She is the purest thing that came out of the Deadpool comics and I love to mention her whenever I can (if you haven't noticed that yet). If you haven't read the comics, at least read the Spider-Man/Deadpool team up comics, which most of this work is based on, because they deserve your love and attention (plus, it's canon that Ellie blurts to Spider-Man that Wade is in love with him, so go read it).


End file.
